The Wild Hunt
by ShadowGuard23
Summary: Eight months in the wake of the Night Howlers incident, and Zootopia has returned to relative normality. But when three mammals are brutally murdered, officers Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde are thrown on a chaotic race against time to track down a deadly adversary on a hunt of his own.
1. Games

After what had seemed like an eternity, the constant pitching and rolling of the floor beneath him ceased, tossing Connor against the steel confines of his prison. The wolf let out an involuntary whimper at the sudden blow to his muzzle, but it was lost in the fabric gag that had thwarted his previous attempts to bellow for aid. It had been torturous to hear the gust of wind and the thunder of tires each time another vehicle had rolled past the innocuous van as it trundled out of the city with its dubious cargo; each time it had raised his hopes. That against the odds, one of them might take an interest in the delivery van, and fling its doors open to find the timberwolf strung up for slaughter in the back. Each time, those hopes had been dashed, as the sound of tires rose up in his ears, only to recede into darkness, as the mammals continued on their happy way, oblivious of their part in the murder to come.

By now, Connor had lost track of the time that had passed since he'd been bundled off into the absolute darkness of the van's storage space. He'd even managed to make some peace with his situation, drifting off into the partial comfort of sleep as his passage continued.

Now that he'd finally arrived though, Connor rapidly found himself losing the confidence of his cell, as the doors were flung open.

With a silent yelp, the timberwolf struggled to protect his eyes from the sudden burst of light, shutting them tight as his assailant grappled with his bound limbs, and tossed him unceremoniously out of the van.

As Connor landed in a pile, he realised he did not even know what his tormentor looked like, and he struggled to turn about, praying to catch even a glimpse of the face he'd be condemning once he passed from the world, but the deadly rasp of steel stopped him cold.

'Stay. Still.' The command was not barked with fury; it was a simple, flat tone devoid of any emotion.

It was also a command Connor obeyed for about three seconds, before he spotted the sharpened blade in his peripheral vision. Immediately, the timberwolf went to tear at his restraints, but the figure's reaction was instantaneous. A sharp _crack_ resounded through his skull, and Connor fell limp in a daze; the fight having departed his sorry form.

'I warned you to stay still,' the said the voice, without a trace of annoyance for the escape attempt, 'Now hold still.'

The blade came closer, and the wolf closed his eyes, trying to whisper his mother's and father's in the vain hope they would hear his love so far away. Even then, the gag defied his efforts, and he began to cry at the unfairness of it all. _Why me?_

He was still posing the question to the clouds when he felt the duct tape binding his hind legs fall away. A second later, his forelegs were unbound by the sharp edge, and he felt a rough shove against his back, sending him sprawling into the dust once again.

Instinctively, he went to tear the gag from his throat, and the moment it was free, he belted out a howl for aid.

'I don't think anyone's coming,' his kidnapper mused, a slight grin splitting his features, 'it's just you and me, howler.'

'What do you want from me?' Connor begged him, drawing his gaze up to meet the creature, and immediately wishing he had not. The flashlight he had used to blind the wolf was lying discarded on the ground, leaving the pair in pitch darkness, yet Connor's eyes could pierce the void with ease; a gift he most sincerely wished to be rid of as soon as he looked skyward.

'You ever had a bad day? A day which you just need to...unwind from?'

Connor did not reply; he did not like where this was headed, as the criminal spread his paws. It might have offered some consolation, were it not for the fact there was a rifle tucked in the grip of one such paw.

'Well it's been a shit week, and it's been an even shittier month, so I figured we're looong overdue.'

'You're just going to shoot me?' Connor couldn't help but bark the obvious question, 'you're just going to kill me because you had a bad day?'

'Who ever said I was just going to shoot you?' For the first time since he'd opened his mouth, the deranged mammal injected an emotion; horror. 'What do you take me for? A psycho?'

Connor was not entirely sure how he was supposed to answer that question, although he very quickly got his answer when the smirk returned.

'No, no no no no; we're going off on a hunt, my friend. And being the sporting fella I am, you get an hour on me.'

The timberwolf's face began to fall as he realised what was about to happen.

'If you reach the road, you walk. Flag down a car, walk back to Zootopia; I don't care. You win. But if you let me catch up…'

The hunter took a heavy step forward, and in the same instant, Connor realised that he himself had crawled back least six feet in utter terror.

'Well...you lose. Now off you pop; I've got to take this call.'

In no small measure of disbelief, Connor watched his kidnapper pop open a sat phone before his very eyes, punch in a series of numbers, before raising it to his ear. After a moment, he began to speak, only to turn a concerned eye on the wolf that continued to stare at him aghast.

'I'd get moving, pup. Clock's ticking.'

Then, without paying Connor a second thought, he went back to his phone call, leaving the battered, cramped and terrified timberwolf to find his way.

* * *

'You were saying?'

'I've been trying to get ahold of you for the last hour!' the voice on the far end of the phone screeched, 'What in the blazes are you up to, and why on earth are you using a sat phone?

'Well, as a law abiding citizen, I'm aghast that you'd suggest I should start answering calls when I'm at the wheel. And the reception up here leaves much to be desired, to answer your second question.'

'Hang on, where on good earth are you…' the voice on the other end trailed off. When it returned, it was positively seething with barely contained fury. 'Two, do not tell me you're doing what I think you're doing.'

'It keeps me in shape.'

'Haven't you heard of a shooting range?!' the phone nearly exploded, and Two was forced to hold the phone a slight distance away from his ear, lest he go deaf amid the barrage of expletives. After a safe time had passed, and his supervisor had run out of breath, he replaced the phone.

'When you can get a paper target to move, duck and think, I might take you up on your offer. Until then, there's only so much it can teach you.'

'You really, really need some constructive hobbies, Two.'

'Sports,' Two corrected the voice, 'sports, not hobbies. Hobbies are the little niceties you eggheads get up to on a desk. But you didn't call me to chat about my life decisions, did you, Socrates?'

There was a brief silence, and the hunter was forced to prompt the conversation along.

'How did you screw up this time, Soc?' he asked in a terribly patronizing sing-song voice, 'Come on, spit it out.'

' _An hour ago_ ,' Socrates seethed, laying particular emphasis on that particular passage of time, 'we had a breach.'

'Digital?'

'No, one of ours.'

'So you did screw up.'

' _He_ torched the files at the Overlord site, and worse made a damn copy before fleeing the site.'

'Your pets at least try to stop him?'

There was a huff on the far side of the phone, and Two took no small measure of pride in his little victory.

'Two of them tried to apprehend him; one...missed the door, and the other managed to get his head crushed under the same door..'

'Softies, one and all,' Two chuckled, and as he did so, he could hear the bristle of fur on the other side of the line, as Socrates' fur ruffled up in irritation. It only amused Two further as he probed further, 'what about the others?'

Another moment of shame.

'He put the barracks on lockdown; he...sealed them inside.'

'You trainning eggheads to outwit your security staff?'

'Are you finished?'

For a moment, neither of them spoke, as Two shuffled his eyes from the phone to the darkness of the woods that surrounded him; his amusement at Socrates' failure dying as he registered what was being asked of him once again. He could still see Connor, whipping from tree to tree as he eyed the hunter, ever wary that he might suddenly betray their agreement.

Two hundred and fifty yards, Two guessed. Not an easy shot, but neither was it anything he had not done before.

'How long do I have?'

'We think he wants to go public,' Socrates sighed, 'give or take three hours, it'll all be out. Twelve hours tops.'

'Twelve is optimistic,' Two sighed, his prospects of a calm weekend now in a shallow grave, 'three it is then. When this is over, you owe me a vacation.'

'I can't decide when the bad guys rear their heads,' was the only reply he received on that account. 'Your equipment and an update on the target will be waiting at the drop.'

'Some overtime pay at least? Two asked as he raised the rifle up to fire. By now, enough time seemed to have passed that Connor no longer feared a round passing through his back, and he was hightailing it in a straight line.

'Idiot,' Two cursed; it would be too easy. 'You owe me overtime on this one, Soc; you're making me break a promise.'

'I'll take that into consideration; just handle it.'

The phone call went dead, leaving just the hunter, and his prey.

'Well,' Two whispered with a grin, 'then again, I did just say I was the sporting sort. Never did say I was always a good sport.'

With that twisted reasoning putting his conscience to rest, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

'ZPD! Stop!'

'You'd think,' Nick managed through ragged breaths, 'she'd have taken the hint by now.'

Judy didn't respond, as she cleared the overturned dumpster in a single bound, and landed at a full sprint, her eyes narrowed on the silhouette tumbling through Zootopia's alleyways.

After nearly three hours that morning trapped in the confines of a civilian cruiser modified for covert surveillance, the weeklong stakeout had finally paid off, with Judy and Nick finally bearing witness to the long awaited meeting between the slim built racoon, and his unnamed dealers.

Nearly ten days prior, it had all started with a typical arrest for drunk driving, until the pair had discovered not one, but ten sachets of Andromol in a beaver's backseat. After securing a confession for the dealership of a Class A painkiller, Chief Bogo had let the pair loose to tear Sahara Square apart. Thankfully, that had proven far easier than either of the pair had anticipated, since the beaver; already cracking under the prospects anything exceeding five years in the hothouse, had decided to cooperate. Namely, by throwing his partner; racoon by the name of Slick, to the rabbit and fox.

Even so, it taken well over a week to catch the slippery racoon in the act, and even that was only thanks to the ineptitude of the dealers themselves. For while Slick quickly lived up to his name, never quite giving them enough of an excuse to pounce, his employers seemed relatively content that no one was about to rain upon their parade, with one even as far as to exclaim the raccoon's name as he slunk quietly up to the criminal antelope.

Then again, Judy remembered thinking to herself, maybe their confidence came from the fact they'd managed to get their hands on several dangerous, and absolutely illegal, machine pistols. It had not been hard to spot the tell tale block of metal sticking upright from the back pocket of the antelope as he'd turned about to head back home, but there was a grave difference between spotting a threat, and dealing with a threat. After all, a rabbit and a fox armed with gas operated tranquilizers and a shotgun with sixteen rubber cartridges had rather dismal odds if they were to simply knock on the front door.

But knock they did, though only after sending out a report to Chief Bogo, who made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that they were to hold down the perimeter until SWAT arrived.

And when the time finally came to knock, it was with the full five thousand pounds of Officer McHorn.

In fact, it was quite anti-climatic in Judy's assessment. After pacing to and fro for yet another half an hour, waiting for backup to arrive and praying that no one would see it fit to depart the crime scene, sweating over each horrendous possibility, Judy had been preparing herself for each manner of hell on earth as they did away with their civies and returned to the comfort of the uniform. Some warning; some lucky shot finding its mark: all those possibilities played through her mind again and again, as the armored truck rolled up a street away, and offloaded Delgato, Fangmeyer, Grizzoli, McHorn and four others she did not recognise, though their uniforms did identify them as members of precinct four.

But drugged out of their minds or not, no mammal was still quite ready to pick a fight with eight thundering officers donned in full riot gear, particularly when the leading Rhino had run through the door, and kept running through two more walls, sending half of the dealers sprawling into the ground before they had a chance to fumble for their weapons. The fight left them as soon as the flashbang denied their sight; the screams 'ZPD!' confronted their ringing ears, and the feeling of cold steel snapping around their paws as the officers pulled them to the ground.

Naturally, Nick and Judy, being far smaller than their compatriots and having yet to technically qualify for SWAT details, were left behind in the initial charge, and by the time she'd even stepped through the doorway, Judy's 'fight of her life' was already over. A disappointment Judy could scarcely contain, as she found herself reading rights once again, and overturning the usual hiding spots for the contraband they'd arrived for.

In retrospect, Judy's frustration was hardly surprising. After her first case had unfolded into a practical conspiracy at the city's highest levels of authority, it was only natural that her expectation for criminal drama was elevated to quite an extreme. An unrealistic extreme, that had Judy practically begging for any and all action after what felt like eight months of parking duty.

Of course, Bogo had tried to keep the pair occupied after gladly eating humble pie in the wake of the Night Howler incident, but frankly, there were only so many 'exciting cases'. Coupled with Judy's near-fanatical attitude, and that supply had dried up with alarming haste.

Others, Nicholas Wilde included, were fairly content with the calm that followed: the ease of the ordinary day that did not involve someone actively trying to kill you. But Judy Hopps was another story.

So when one of the perps had decided to play for freedom by throwing a packet of the vile powder into Grizzoli's face, Hopps was naturally the first one out the window in hot pursuit.

Thankfully, the deer was not in top form, and with Nick just a couple of meters behind her, the gap was closing, as the desperate criminal dove into an alleyway in the hopes that overturning a couple of dustbins would deter her pursuers.

Naturally, they did not, as Judy cleared the obstruction in a single bound, and landed without breaking her stride. For a moment, she considered pulling the tranquilizer pistol holstered on her belt, but she quickly discarded the notion as soon as it materialised in her head. The dart loading mechanism permitted only one round to be loaded at anytime, and it could be a right pain to re-arm the weapon at a full sprint if she missed.

Of course, one of the SWAT detail's magazine fed armaments might have circumvented that issue, but its usage on a fleeing criminal who posed no foreseeable danger to the officer was a dubious area at best. And while Judy might have bent a rule or two in her various pursuits of justice, she definitively drew the line at inflicting grievous bodily harm just because she'd gotten tired of running.

'Nick!' she shouted, scarcely tilting her head back to meet her partner's eyes, lest the doe manage to pull some vanishing act in the brief moment it took her to relay her plan, 'double back and get the car!'

'Carrots, this isn't the time to be a hero!'

'I'll keep her moving northwards; head her off at Oasis, and she'll have nowhere to go!'

She'd lowered her volume in the hopes that the culprit would not have heard the trap, and with the growing distance between them, it took Nick a couple of seconds to fully register Judy's plan, but after a moment of hesitation, he spoke back into the radio piece on his chest.

'Doubling back now. I'll see you at Oasis.'

Judy was tempted to reply, but it was at that moment the deer thundered to a halt, only to kick another dustbin right for the rabbit's head.

A last minute dive for the ground managed to stop Judy from being turning into a paste, as the metallic barrel tumbled inches above her ears and continue clattering back down the way she'd come, even as the dealer snarled at the persistence of her pursuer.

'Stop!' Judy tried again, already back up to a sprint by the time the words had left her mouth.

Quite predictably, the doe did not oblige, instead choosing to crash through a nearby window with an inglourious leap that turned into a rather painful thud on the far side.

'Nick,' Judy snapped, hitting her radio as she skidded to a halt, 'subject's just entered a warehouse; street south of Oasis. She might be trying to cut through the buildings.'

'You want me to head her off at the square?'

'Only place she'll come out, Nick,' Judy grinned, as she primed herself for her own jump, 'I'll see you in a couple.'

'Be careful, Carrots,' the fox warned, 'Don't be no dumb bunny.'

'You know me, slick,' Judy returned in the same easy tone, 'don't worry, Nick; I'll be fine.'

With that, she propelled herself forwards, clearing the broken shards of glass with ease as she dropped into the dark.

Their criminal deer was nowhere to be seen, but she'd been galloping hard for a good couple of minutes, and she was breathing hard; sucking oxygen in at a prodigious rate in ragged breaths: breaths that betrayed her as Judy advanced through the confines of the warehouse.

A door opened somewhere ahead; shrieking against metal as its unoiled hinges protested against their treatment, and then a series of smaller creaks. In the heat of the pursuit, her quarry must have crashed through the door at a run, and then realised her mistake, although Judy had no idea why she believed quietly closing the door would somehow compensate for the first crash. It seemed illogical, yet truth be told, she herself might have made the exact same mistake if a relentless hunter were on her tail.

The next warehouse proved just as empty as the last, and by now, the doe's heartrate was stabilising. That was not to say she was invisible, for a clumsy doe she remained, knocking against crates and loose items as she went, and cursing her misfortune, unaware of the sharp ears that were closing in.

But it was when Judy entered the third structure that she also realised she was not alone. Voices were rising, from the very same direction the trail led.

'...cops here? Are you out of your damn mind, you stupid-'

'What was I supposed to do? I can't go back-'

'You could have bitten the bullet and not screwed us over! Now what the hell are we supposed to do?'

Crouched behind a crate that was of sufficient size to shield her from wary eyes, Judy was able to make out a trio of figures. One, which coincidentally matched the silhouette of the doe she'd been pursuing only moments earlier, was on her knees, head bowed and mewling in shame as if she were about to be decapitated by the hulking rhino she faced. Meanwhile, another, who looked to fit the build of either a panther of jaguar, was pacing to and fro, clearly in deep thought as his companions continued to argue.

'How far behind were they?' The rhino seethed, his fists already bunched up to react to any unfavorable response.

'I don't know,' the pathetic creature at his feet lied, 'there were only two of them. A fox and a rabbit.'

'A fox and a - bwah!' the rhino exploded into a raucous belt of laughter, until he choked on his own spit and broke into a wheezing cough, somewhat spoiling his stature as the group's muscle. 'ZPD's standards must be dropping,' he managed to splutter out once he'd recovered.

'Does it matter who they are?' the feline figure snarled, 'long as they're the fuzz, we're boned if we stay here.'

'But what about-' The doe had begun to draw breath for a question when the feline had flipped popped open a lighter, and touched the naked flame to the edge of the crate he'd been standing over. should

'Now then,' he sighed, 'we really should be going.'

'What about her though? Cops are going to be looking for her.'

'I hope you're not insinuating what I think you're insinuating, Brutus,' the second figure snapped. Those words seemed to put the frantic doe at ease, for about three seconds, before the figure Judy could now clearly identify as a panther rounded about and clapped her hard over the head, dropping her to the ground unconscious, next to the flaming crate. 'Why they'll find her here, just had a teensy bit of an accident-'

He was still finishing his sentence when he was sent flying into the very same crate he'd just set alight, as a little grey projectile shot out of the darkness and smashed into his chest. The panther shrieked as he felt the fire touch his fur, but it was a youthful flame that had yet to grow, and the impact only snuffed out its brief existence, killing the flames where they lay. Furious, he snapped upright, only to find himself face to face with the diminutive form of a grey rabbit in the blue uniform of the ZPD. A rabbit who was holding an elephant tranquilizer in his direction.

'ZPD,' Judy stated bluntly, keeping a careful eye on the rhino brute that accompanied the panther, 'you're under arrest.'

'How terrifying!' the panther mocked her, as he scrambled back to his feet, 'I'm no genius, but that's a tranq pistol. You might dart one of us, but then you'll have to deal with the other two.'

'Back away from the crate, turn around and interlock your fingers,' was the only response he got, eliciting a slight grin from the panther.

'Or what?'

'Or I dart you, then I dart your friend, and then you spend upwards of twenty years for trafficking a class A painkiller in bulk.'

'Twenty years?'

'Depends,' Judy shrugged, 'that's if your judge is lenient.'

'And how about you? How much would it cost for _you_ to be lenient?'

Despite his arrogance, Judy could not help but notice the brief flicker of terror as her face split into a scowl at his words. He certainly had good reason; an elephant tranquilizer was not immediate, and the brute impact of a tip designed to pierce through thick hide was an unwelcome experience at best. And arrogant as this panther was, he was smart enough to realise that perhaps pushing an armed bunny too far would herald a painful future.

'I'm not taking bribes,' she snapped sharply, 'I'm taking you in.'

The panther's head drooped in shame, his head slowly shaking from one side to the other.

'This could have gone so well.'

'I'd say,' cooed a third voice: a soft, rasping tone that came with the sound of steel scraping against a leather sheath. A voice that was coming from somewhere directly behind her. 'ZPD's standards really have dropped. So the million dollar question: what do we do with her?'

To punctuate the question, Judy felt a light touch against her vest. It was small enough to be the tip of a knife, and despite herself, she was unable to keep a cold sweat from breaking out. As Major Friedkin had so bluntly put it eight months prior; taking a ballistics vest to a knife fight was another effective way one could wind up 'dead' in the blink of an eye.

And while Judy had often assumed the polar bear's continuous motivation of the coffin to be a tad exaggerated, it was one thing to laugh at it in the classroom, and another to know it was not a training partner who did not really want to end a life. Plant in the infirmary for a weekend, maybe. But kill? If anything, it would be bad PR.

Strangely, Judy observed, this voice seemed to be coming from directly behind her, as opposed to above her. Unlike most of the criminals she'd hunted though, this one was of a relatively similar size, if not smaller than her, judging from the direction of the voice.

It was all Judy needed to make her decision as the now-grinning panther gave her the green light.

'What do you think?' he asked, setting the crate alight once more as he relayed the wish she could have seen a mile away. 'Gut her; knife wound won't mean jack once she's all burnt to a crisp.'

The touch of steel withdrew to gather up momentum for a strike, and it was at that moment Judy made her choice. Snapping into a jump from a standing position, she did not quite get the same height she might have been capable of, but it was enough to take her over the deadly blade. In the same moment, she'd rounded about with one leg extended to it's full reach.

She had just enough time to realise the fourth criminal was actually a rat, for about a second before the flat of her foot snapped across his face, and dropped him to the ground in the blink of an eye.

But as her eyes departed the rhino and panther, their courage returned just long enough for them to dart forward.

The rhino, who had aimed to simply crush the grey impediment underfoot, missed Judy completely, sending up only ripples of dust before he felt a sharp agony rip into his arm. Then, before he could draw the words for a reply, he lost all feeling in his legs, staggered dimly for a few more seconds, and crashed in an uncontrolled heap to the side.

Judy, on the other hand, was already kicking herself before the panther took up that duty. She had meant to tranquilize the lighting faster attacker, but in the heat of the moment, there had not been a great deal of time to take aim, and all she could do was brace as she spotted the blur of motion approaching her tiny form.

She could not be sure if the resounding 'crack' was from crate she'd been catapulted against, or her own bones protesting the treatment they'd been prescribed. Yet there was little time to give it further thought, once the panther caught up with the ball of fur he'd punted a good couple of meters.

As the panther's paws dragged her upright, Judy rammed her knee up into his clenched paws, driving a wedge between the two limbs. It weakened his grasp, certainly, but with bruised or even cracked ribs, it probably did more harm to Judy than the desperate feline, as he clenched with a vice-like grip in an effort to hold on to the squirming rabbit: a grip that threatened to break whatever ribs remained intact.

'Should have stayed home, cottontail,' she heard, before a sharp pain creased over her forehead as the Panther rammed his notably larger forehead into her own. Twice, before he abruptly cast her aside, tossing her back across the room; right onto the fire that was now engulfing the evidence.

Understandably, Judy was unable to contain a small yelp as she pushed herself off the makeshift pyre, falling into a small, wheezing heap beside the now snoring body of a rhino that wanted her dead, even as the panther approached, holding up her pistol in amusement at its size.

'Too bad, officer,' he sighed, tossing the weapon aside as if it were a toy in his hands, 'you could have lived. Instead you gotta go running into a burning building, going all hero…'

'You kill me,' Judy spluttered weakly, still trying to clear the smoke from her lungs, 'and you land up in the den even longer.'

A snort replied her defiance. ' _If_ they convict me, and how the hell are they gonna do that, officer? No evidence left and no witnesses…'

'That why you start a fire?'

'What can I say?' The feline gave her a knowing look, slightly impressed at himself that the ploy was lost entirely on the hapless bunny. 'I've been doing this a long time.'

'Right, except you're wrong on one thing. I'd be a witness.'

A flash of steel loomed in the panther's hand. 'Not if you're dead.'

'So that's a confession then?'

'What?' Too late, the criminal saw that look of stark terror; of prey pleading for its life, transform into a wolfish grin.

Too late did he spot the orange light glimmering from the back of the cop's utility belt, from a pouch they'd typically store their radios.

And too late did he hear the thunder of footsteps approaching the warehouse door, before it flung open to reveal three silhouettes. A lion, a wolf, and a fox.

Judy had been on the verge of proclaiming her assailant was 'under arrest', but she only got as far as 'you are' before three tranquilizer darts planted themselves in his chest, and dropped him beside the smouldering case of Andromol.

'Please tell me you got it?'

'We got it,' Nick answered, holding up the her orange pen for her to see, before he slipped it back into a pocket as he tried to assess the damage. 'Carrots, you-'

'Thank God for that,' she sighed, barely registering Nick's concern as the adrenaline continued to depart her system, and her eyelids began to feel like anvils. 'I was wondering here if I was just getting the stuffing kicked out of me for no good reason at all.'

'Oh we were listening,' said the fox, in a rather disapproving tone, 'although I have to wonder if that's because you pull this way too much.'

'It's called a hustle, sweetheart.'

'Twenty years,' Nick raised an incredulous eyebrow, 'and never once did I have to get a big cat and his heavy weight pal to smash me into the ground.'

'What about a shrew icing you?'

'First off, he _tried_ ; never said he succeeded. And two; that was only when things went really, really _wrong_. You calling this a success is maybe just a tad disconcerting, Carrots.'

'Aw relax, Nick,' Judy managed to slur, 'Besides, I'm fine!'. Too quickly, for soon afterwards she was beset by another round of pain, and try as she might, it was a poor attempt to conceal it at best. 'Besides, we got them, didn't we?'

She tried letting out a small celebratory 'yay' to persuade Nick of her wellbeing; to just stop him fretting over just a few flesh wounds, but the effort was proving too much, and she slumped back down, defeated by the effort.

'Yeah,' the fox scoffed, checking his watch as he did so, 'perfectly fine. Don't worry Hopps; the ambulance is nearly-'

The words died in his mouth as he realised Judy's big purple eyes were no longer staring back. They were closed, in a manner that might have been serene; peaceful, if Nick just hadn't started screaming.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So yes, I'm way late on the bandwagon for Zootopia. Never watched it until about a month ago, and so consider this my penance for writing it off at first as a typical disney flick. To anyone familiar with my past work, do not worry! This will be my first fully contained fan fiction, meaning everything is set from within the Zootopia universe. No crossovers, no aliens, no demons, or whatever other weird stuff I've thrashed out in the past; although I'll be expanding the world of Zootopia beyond the movie's lens, you don't need to concern yourselves with things of the absurd nature requiring advance warning.**

 **One slight warning though: the rating may change, as my tendency towards graphic violence in writing is one thing that has not changed.**

 **Finally, please don't hesitate to review! Good, bad; whatever tickles your fancy. Seriously; I'm not going to have a fit if someone points out someone seems out of character, or there is something that just makes no sense; I really appreciate any and all feedback. Every bit of it helps to develop the story into something better! I'll try to push the next update out soon!**


	2. The Price of Life

It was the taste in her mouth that awoke her. Bitter and ill, it reminded her too much of that fall she'd taken whilst helping her father with the Callus family's leaky roof, and the hospital journey that ensued. Even to this day, she could still remember the foul, lingering taste of the anesthetic in her mouth, and the experience had not improved her disposition to the procedure by any means.

Still, there was not much to be done, save for trying to moisten her dry mouth in a futile effort to wash the sensation down to the pit of her stomach, away from her tastebuds. Naturally, it did not work, but it was enough of a stir for someone in the room to realise she was in fact awake.

'Officer Hopps?' a feminine voice called to her, as if she were expecting the dazed rabbit to snap upright at her voice, and provide a full report on her recovery, before she came to her senses, and stumbled out of the room, calling a name Judy did not recognise.

Or rather, Judy did not pay any attention to the said name, considering she was more concerned with the question of why she was lying on her side, atop a numb right arm, even as she slowly pried her eyes apart.

She still had no idea as to which hospital she'd been checked into, but where ever it was, the painter had stuck to his guns, or rather gun, considering that she'd never seen so much white in her life. White floors; white desk, white wall...which as it turned out was the extent of the room as Judy could see it, since her doctor had not deigned to face her in the direction of the door when he'd propped her sideways, leaving her with the full scenic vista of four square meters of plain, white paint to marvel at for the duration of her stay.

'Hopps?'

This time, she did recognised the voice, although it took her a moment to fully commit considering that she still could not see the individual in question. And then there was the fact that her name was rarely pronounced by the said voice at such a mellow volume. If anything, it was usually being belted out across the ZPD's foyer with alarming clarity.

'Chief?'

A couple of heavy footsteps, practically confirming the Chief Bogo's presence, as he took a couple of paces, before Judy heard the clatter of a chair departing it's resting position.

'How're you feeling?' the Buffalo asked in the same subdued tone, pulling the chair up to Judy's four square meters so that they would not be spending the discussion with craned necks, 'Johnson and Grizzoli told me about what happened.'

'Nick?' Judy asked, her hazy mind barely registering the question.

'Yeah, him too,' Bogo grunted impatiently with only the slightest hint of annoyance. Truth be told, the Chief of the Police and the ex-conman had never quite reached a degree of friendship, particularly after a meticulous Bogo had spotted Nick's lie in his application form regarding previous convictions. Of course, it may have also had something to do with the fact that it had been a much younger and inexperienced Bogo that had hauled the same Nicholas Piberius Wilde in for questioning fourteen years ago. Underage as he was, Nick had gotten off with a slap on the wrist, which had not endeared him to the Chief when he'd wound up assigned to District One; even more than the fact he was a fox.

But despite their differences, they had at least gotten past the 'occasional murderous gaze' stage of reconciliation, and there seemed an unspoken agreement between the two; that Nick could fire whatever he wanted, while Bogo could shout and bluster all he wanted. In exchange, Bogo refrained from actually killing Nick. In Nick's words, it was a 'perfect compromise'.

'Well,' Judy began, scrunching her eyes shut as she battled another wave of nausea, 'what exactly did happen? My legs feel like-'

'Second degree burns, two bruised ribs,' Bogo rattled off, shedding the thin veneer of concern and reverting back to his usual self now that he knew he had Judy's full attention, 'and a concussion.'

'That's it?' Judy asked, failing to notice the scowl that was creasing the Chief's features as she did so.

'Is that so?' he retorted sarcastically, 'I'm afraid to disappoint you, Hopps. No, you didn't beat your record as the department's punchbag.'

'Sir, he destroyed most of the evidence. The least I could do was recover a bit of it.'

'There is a line that needs to be drawn at times, Hopps,' Bogo continued, retreating back to the oddly quiet tone with which he'd approached, 'We need good cops; I'm not denying that. But they don't do us much good when they're lying in a casket, Hopps.'

Judy had begun to draw breath to protest; to assure him that her life had in fact never been at risk; that she'd 'had it all under control', but Bogo seemed to anticipate the gesture before it had even passed her lips.

'You might think you're invincible Hopps, but the simple fact is you're not. I know that you've got it in your head that you're special; that you're too quick, or too smart, or too fast to eat the dirt. But the simple fact is that despite all that; despite what Friedkin might have hammered into your head that if you just train enough; if you just _try hard enough_ , you'll be able to just slide on through to retirement without so much as a couple of scratches. The fact is half of it isn't even up to us.'

He sighed, trying to compose his thoughts, but despite herself, Judy could already feel a slight worm gnawing at her gut as she digested what she was hearing. Sure, she had never been under the delusion she was invincible, but there was an honest part of her that realised she'd never actually considered the possibility that one day, things might go truly wrong. A few bruises were to be expected; at worst, maybe a gunshot, but never one that was crippling. For some reason, the only possibilities she'd ever considered was either that she'd be dead before she knew it, or she'd come through without a single scratch. And even then, despite Clawhauser's half hearted administrative reminders when he was not occupied with relieving a donut box of its burdens, she'd never quite gotten around to filling out a will.

But the fact he'd overlooked her acceptance of injury, no matter how small; that was enough to cast a doubt on everything else he said, and Judy steeled herself, partly determined not to listen to another word. It was

'Back on the Night Howlers case, you said we needed good cops,' she started softly.

'That I did.'

'But good cops don't shy away from their duty, sir,' Judy continued, her conviction overcoming her fatigue, 'With respect sir, you can't ask me to just sit back and let the bad guys just run amok-'

'I never said to kick your feet up and pat yourself on the back for it, Hopps. I'm only saying that there's a difference between doing your duty, and trying to get yourself buried every other day of the week. Rotten luck will have it in for you half the time already; all I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe; you don't spend the time that _is_ in your hands trying to accomplish the exact same thing.'

'I'm not trying to kill myself, Chief,' Judy protested, 'it's just that sometimes, it's...the only way,' she finished weakly.

'Killing yourself?' Bogo gave her a disbelieving look as he raised an eyebrow.

'You know what I mean; we take risks, don't we? Bravery, integrity; it's in our name.' Instinctively, she went to touch the gold tinged badge that identified her as one of Zootopia finest, only to recall she was still in a hospital gown.

'All I'm saying is that you can afford to be a little more careful,' Bogo muttered, as he rose from his seat. 'Look Hopps, you can disagree with me if you want, but believe it or not, I know what's going on in that head of yours. I was twenty as well, once upon a time, at least.'

Judy did not even consider trying to correct him on that as she tried to wrestle down the instinct that screamed to just ignore the Cape Buffalo's words. That she was the master of her own destiny, and knew exactly what she was doing; knew her capabilities, and would be the judge of what she could and could not do. Sure, it was a powerful voice; it was what had gotten her through the academy to begin with. But stubborn as she was, Judy had a habit of digging out the best in people, and a part of her had enough sense to swallow her pride long enough to realised that maybe the dour Chief had a point.

'Anyways,' he rumbled, in a tone that made his intent to end the conversation bright as day, 'I won't keep you any longer. Maybe they'll be able to talk some sense into you.'

'Wait,' Judy asked, confused, 'they?'

'Get some rest Hopps,' Bogo snapped, ignoring the question, 'that's an order. And I don't want to hear about you jumping off a building thinking a bush is going to catch you, clear?'

'Got it, Chief,' Judy replied, raising her left paw to give him a thumbs-up. For a moment, Bogo looked as if he were about to continue the lecture, but with a slight groan, he shrugged his massive shoulders and exited the room as loudly as he'd entered, leaving Judy to her thoughts. For the grand total of about five seconds, before a new patter of feet snapped her eyes open once again. Only this time, there was no _clomp_ of muscle, bone and unforgiving attitude; only the scratching sound of small nails clipping occasionally against the hospital tiles.

And by God, there were a lot of them.

'Judy! Are you okay?'

'Hey Dad,' she answered, trying to put on a wry grin as they approached the side of the bed she was facing. It was only a partially successful effort, considering the rank aftertaste that continued to play havoc with her mouth and stomach, but it was the effort that counted, she told herself. 'Hey Mom. Hey...everybody.'

This would be interesting, she thought to herself.

* * *

'Autumn, I assume?'

'No.'

'Mrs Underfoot?'

'Who?'

'Underfoot?'

'I'm sorry, I really must be going.'

Discouraged as he was, Hornsby faced nearly no temptation to sink back against the wall in misery. But it was not because the gesture might have crushed a trio of wandering mice under his hooves; no, the temptation to admit defeat was a foreign idea simply because Hornsby was terrified out of his mind.

He had no clue as to why she'd asked to meet him at the northern entrance to Little Rodentia. Maybe it was because there were nearly no other rams that frequented the area, allowing him to stick out like a sore thumb for someone he'd never met. Or maybe it was in the vague hopes that any unsavory types would be unwilling to pursue them into such cramped quarters. Whatever Autumn Underfoot's excuse, Hornsby was beginning to wonder if it would simply be better to cut and run, as he sipped at the foam of his coffee, keeping a wary eye on anyone that so much as glanced in his direction.

A pair of giraffes in conversation on the far side of the street; was he the subject of their conversation? It certainly seemed plausible, as one craned her neck to the side, a scrutinising look in her eyes as she assessed the little neighbourhood before muttering her disagreement to her mate. A sheep trotting down towards him on his side of the road, laughing on her phone. Was she a psychopath, taking pleasure at his inevitable demise as she relayed his location?

A fox.

Hornsby could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage even as he eyed the red furred mammal go about his business; popping a piece of gum into his mouth as he meandered along the pavement, revealing the incisors that lined its jaws.

Even though Hornsby was twice his height, and well over ten times his weight, he was unable to suppress the rather vivid image of those teeth locking around his neck. Of those sly, yellow eyes looming over him as he paid the price of his stupidity.

It was all too much, and reason told him he had waited far too long. Yet he could not find the courage to move. Despite every voice; every face; every eye screaming at him to run as fast as his legs could carry him, he could not move, as doubt assuaged him once again. What if he was safe, and his hunters were only around the next corner; completely oblivious to his presence unless he were so foolish to run? What was the right choice?

He nearly broke down, right in the middle of the street, as he wracked his mind, whilst trying to keep control of his bladder.

He was still damning his choices to the void when he realised a shadow was looming over him. A very large shadow, that could be followed right back to a hulking mountain of white fur.

'Mr Hornsby?'

 _What was the right answer?_ _Friend or foe?_ He did not dare to presume it was a friend, yet it only made sense, considering Autumn was the only one who knew of the meeting.

But on the other hand, he'd been led to believe Autumn Underfoot was a mole: not a hulking polar bear.

'Mrs Underfoot sent us.'

 _Us?_ It was only then that Hornsby cast a nervous look over his shoulder, and realised a second bear was standing barely five feet away, and looked to have been standing there for quite some time. _My God, I'm really not cut out for this_ , he realised, far too late to be able to do anything about it. Nervously, he stumbled out an affirmation.

'Good; follow us.'

It was more of a command than an offer, and without so much as a thought, Hornsby found his own legs moving on their own accord, to appease the simple instinct of self preservation before his brain could reach the same conclusion.

'Oka-' he bit off, nearly leaping out of his skin as the second polar bear placed a hand on his shoulder to steady his quavering form, 'alright, lead the way.'

* * *

Becoming a cop had brought many experiences Judy had never even considered when she'd steeled herself all those years ago to stay her course into law enforcement. Her meter maid day, having to _run_ from an admittedly savage criminal, to the paper work that preceded, marred and followed any investigation; none of it she could have predicted.

But she did have enough foresight to have spotted this particular conversation coming from a mile off. That conversation, when her parents would finally dig in their heels, and try to bring her home; away from the city, and the dangers of her career.

The only thing that managed to amaze Judy was just how long she'd manage to put it off. Admittedly, she'd partly expected it halfway through her first case, or even in the immediate aftermath, as she lay in quiet contemplation over her bandaged leg, but Bogo had scribbled the injury off as a flesh wound, barely requiring anymore than a footnote in the report; hardly worthy of notifying a countryside family with enough on their plate. And with the rest of the media obsessing over Bellwether's arrest rather than the little technicalities behind the incident, parental pride had overtaken Bonnie and Stu Hopps' paranoia for their daughter's well being.

Unfortunately for Judy though, a standard drug bust gone wrong did not quite equate to uncovering a conspiracy within the city's government; the results hardly justifiable to a concerned mother and father, particularly after discovering that the price of success was a hospital trip for their daughter.

'We're only saying,' her mother fussed, 'wouldn't you like to come back home, for awhile at least, while you get back on you feet?'

'Yeah!' her father chimed in, wearing that same, goofy grin Judy knew he wore when he was secretly terrified of his daughter's antics, 'you know what they say; you're only going to make it worse if you keep pushing yourself!'

'Guys, I'll be fine,' Judy protested with a calm she certainly did not feel, 'its just a couple of scratches.'

'Right, right,' Bonnie retreated, choosing her words carefully, 'but you can't be chasing the villains around all day with a scorched tail, Judy. After all, doesn't the city need you at your best?'

'Too true,' her father added, nodding vehemently as he stumbled over his words in jittery haste, 'and besides; wouldn't you want to see the farm again? Say hi to the family?'

'Looks to me like they're all here,' Judy couldn't resist the light hearted jibe, as she gazed back into the hundreds of wide, sympathetic eyes that peered back in her direction, each kit having resolved that if they just felt sorry enough for their sister, she might just recover the faster.

'Come on, Jude; when was the last time you were back home? Two months now?'

'How about Easter?'

'Okay, a month-'

'And then there was Julia's wedding.'

'Okay, time's not important,' Stu grumbled, 'look Judes, the thing is...you see...your mother and I…'

Judy could not help but notice the slight scowl that creased Bonnie's forehead as her father implicated her in whatever was about to follow. Not that it was a very lasting moment though; whatever it was, it had her backing, even if it hadn't been her idea to begin with.

Which made Judy uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable, as she tried to dredge up the arguments she'd prepared for this debate over half a year ago, but found those memories to have dissipated on the wind.

'Look Judy,' her mother interjected, thinking to spare Stu from having to dance around the issue any longer, but only taking up the mantle herself, 'we couldn't be anymore proud of you; you're the first bunny cop there's been! But-'

Ah, there it was. The 'but'. Anytime now.

'We're worried for you, Judy,' her father finally admitted, his ears dropping behind his head as he finally let the stoic facade collapse, 'police work is dangerous stuff.'

'Dad,' Judy mumbled, pushing a slight grin through her features despite the gnawing sensation in her stomach, 'it's fine. After all, it's all just part of the job, right?'

In retrospect, she should have mentioned her compatriots. Her infallible trust in the officers at her side, or maybe mention her unyielding determination to protect the city. But without a great deal of time to think, she had said the first thing that came to her mind.

It was also the worst thing she could have said, as she noticed the shared terror that marked both of her parents' faces, and realised her mistake too late.

'What I mean,' she tried, retreating too late, 'is that I'm with some of the best mammals I've ever met; we all look out for each other. My partner's-'

'Going to get exactly what he deserves when I get my hands on him,' Stu grumbled, crossing his paws in parental fury, 'maybe you look out for others, Judy; you've always been a good kit, but others…' he tailed off, biting his lip as to prevent the tidal wave of expletives from pouring out in the presence his younger kits.

'It's not his fault,' Judy protested, thinking it best not to mention Nick's species as of the present moment. To this day, Bonnie and Stu remained ignorant of the fact Nick was in fact a fox. And while they might have reconciled with Gideon back home, that seemed to only be the product of nearly sixteen years of coexistence.

'Look, we know you've made good friends here, Judy,' Bonnie started again, 'and there's no reason you can't stay that way, but do you have to stay on the force Judy? Or at least, do you have to stay in the field?'

Somehow, Bonnie had been hoping that finally putting their request out in the open would be like removing a bandaid. Unpleasant, but best done quickly and left as short unpleasantry. But when she saw Judy's ears flop down upon hearing her words, she realised the folly of such a hope and mentally kicked herself.

Judy on the hand felts as if she'd been punched in the gut. Strangely, she'd been expecting it, and so she'd actually been expecting herself to take the statement far better than she actually did. After all, it was hardly a surprise; at one point, she'd even gone as far as to write a little speech for the occasion. But somehow, time, and their constant tiptoeing around the subject had lulled her into a vain hope. That against all odds, they were not worried any more than she was. But it was out in the open, and that vain hope; even though she'd always known it to be false, was still a little part of her soul that was promptly crushed underfoot by those simple words.

Yet, in spite of it all, Judy was a fighter at heart. And this was one more fight she would not be backing down from, as she buried the dread in her gut, and prayed her parents would understand.

'I'm sorry mom, but I can't.'

'You can't what?'

'Leave. The ZPD.'

'What is it, honey? Is it the contract? We can work something out-'

'No, it's not a contract,' Judy clarified, jolted from her lethargy to defend her case, 'no, mom; I don't want to leave the ZPD. It's what I worked for my entire life!'

'Look Judy, you're twenty four,' her father soothed, 'I know it seems like everything right now, but you still have a fruitful life ahead of you - there's always time to change.'

'But this is where I can do the most,' Judy insisted, 'I mean, we're there to catch dangerous people, to stop them from being a danger to the rest of society. It's important work,' she went on, unconvincingly. Arguing with her parents was one thing Judy Hopps had never been very proficient in.

'Someone else can do it,' Bonnie pleaded, 'just not you; we don't want to lose you Judy! Not over...God, what was it you were doing this time?'

Considering how her recent conversation with Bogo had gone, Judy decided not to elaborate on that particular question. Besides, her mother had touched a slightly raw nerve to begin with.

'Someone else can do it?' She repeated, unable to stop a trace of annoyance creeping into her tone, 'Mom, the world won't get better if we just sit by! We all say the world's messed up in so many ways, but no one's actually willing to go out there and do something about it! But it's the only way. The world isn't going to just heal itself, guys.'

'Maybe,' Stu conceded, 'but it doesn't have to be you who changes it, Judy.'

'I'm a cop, Dad; I'm not a carrot farmer.'

She had not meant it, nor even said it as an insult. But she could see she'd hurt them, and she hated herself for it.

'I'm sorry,' she started, tears forming in her eyes. She was already drawing breath to continue, but it was at that point a gentle rap against the door caught their attention.

'Maybe you could come back later, Mr and Mrs...Hopps, right?'

Stu looked to have been on the verge of demanding the newcomer's identity when he saw the white coat. Still, the fact it was a fox behind the clipboard prompted a little hesitation before he eventually decided to hold his tongue. Zootopia was, after all, a strange place.

'It might be better if you did,' the doctor suggested, stepping into the room as he did so, 'Kelpamore can make mammals a little…' he searched for the word, before settling on 'irritable', even as he scribbled down a couple of notes. 'Best thing for her now would be plenty of rest; I'm sure you understand.'

'Oh,' Bonnie breathed, seizing the lifeline, 'yes, I think that might be for the best, Stu.'

'No, wait,' Judy muttered, craning her neck to get a better glimpse of the rather familiar 'doctor', but her parents already seemed to be grateful for the suggestion that her stubbornness was simply the product of an unrested mind, considering Bonnie was already suggesting to the younger kits a visit to the Rainforest District's Jungle Park to make the most of their visit to Zootopia. Her suggestion was met with a rather enthusiastic response, resigning Judy to her fate. Try as she might, no one lone voice could turn back 58 excitable young kits.

'Take care of yourself, Judy,' her father added, ignoring her protests of her well being as he planted a kiss on her forehead, 'you rest up now, alright? And nothing strenuous too soon!'

'Dad, I'm absolutely fine,' Judy managed, before she was cut off by her mother's similar affection, and she could only watch as her siblings began to file out the door; a door that had been designed to admit even elephants on short notice, so it was practically no time before the room had been emptied.

Which did Judy no favors, considering her ears were still working perfectly fine as she picked up her father's lowered tones.

'She's won't be going out again, right doc?'

'Relax, Mr Hopps,' came an easy reply, that neither confirmed nor denied the question, 'Judy's in safe hands.'

'She didn't mean that, did she?'

'Ah, believe me, Mrs Hopps; mammals can be real grouches when they're recovering. Bunnies especially, I've learnt.'

Despite her frustration, Judy was unable to stop a wry grin from breaking out as she heard her father's fur bristle up on end at such a comment from a fox, before the 'doctor' smoothly added his clarification.

'Stronger reaction to the painkillers; bunnies can be a bit more...emotional.'

* * *

'You really didn't have to do that.'

'What? No thank you?'

Judy could only roll her eyes as Nick fell into the chair beside the hospital cot, shedding the white coat to reveal that same lime green shirt he'd been wearing during their first meeting. 'I got donuts; you hungry?'

She certainly was; judging from the fact that the window was only a black screen, it was well into the night, and Judy was quite positively famished, considering she hadn't eaten since the morning. Of course, she might have indulged in a snack or two during the stakeout, but unlike Nick, Judy had found that adrenaline could prove a substantial substitute for nourishment, and the fact she'd missed lunch had troubled her little.

Now though, in lieu of anticipating a potentially life-threatening drug bust, a couple of donuts was a tempting alternative. Besides, it might help to wash out the sickening sensation from her mouth.

But she stopped herself, and set her jaw in a firm line. Not yet, she told herself. Not until she'd said what needed to be said.

'I mean it, Nick,' she said, eying the bemused fox as he tried to figure out what had riled her up, 'I needed to sort things out with my parents; I've been putting it off long enough as it is.'

'Carrots,' Nick replied gently, taking a swig of coffee before he answered, 'I just got you out of a very tedious, long lecture about how to live your life. 'Thank you', you're welcome.' He raised the paper cup in a little toast, but Judy would not be dissuaded so easily.

'I can't keep tiptoeing around it, Nick.'

'You've managed it this far; I just gave you a hand in...keeping you on a streak; that's all.'

'I'm serious Nick; it's not just going to go away if I hide from it. That doesn't work.'

Nick seemed to digest her words, as he mulled over the cup of black liquid in his hand, swirling it occasionally like the thoughts that preoccupied his mind.

'Sometimes,' he muttered sincerely, 'it's the only thing that works, Carrots. Otherwise, sometimes, you just end up pushing them away.'

'Family will always be family,' Judy protested, trying to push herself up to face Nick in the eye, but failing miserably as her numb arm gave out from under her, 'no matter what; nothing can change that.'

'Maybe,' was the only answer she got out of the usually chatty fox, and in that, Judy knew she'd hit a raw nerve. Despite his outgoing nature, Nick was a well guarded fox, and conversations about his own family and history were short lived before a conversation was spun about to interrogate the one who had sought a discovery into the fox, only to provide one of their own.

'I'm sorry Nick; I didn't mean to-'

'Mean to what?' In a flash, the mellow surge of doubt was purged from the fox's features, replaced by that usual witty glint in his eye. Yet, Judy could sense there was a forced nature to the act. She'd been around him for far too long to avoid picking up his habits.

Unfortunately, that also meant she knew that she was getting nothing more out of him tonight. But in Judy's book, it still never hurt to try.

'If you ever want to talk about-'

'Ah, you worry too much, Fluff. You're the one we should be worrying about here. Heck; I nearly had a heart attack when you conked out in the warehouse.'

'You sure I don't need to worry about that?' Judy asked, making one last throw at the dice to turn the conversation back on Nick. 'Our dumb fox isn't going to keel over, is he?'

'Sly Bunny,' the fox observed, giving her a wink as he noted the attempt, and yielded zero ground. 'Seriously, Judy; you should take it easier. Not saying what your parents were saying, but just...maybe give it a rest for a couple of days, you know? Let someone else of us look good for once, eh?'

'Are you sure you don't just want someone to do your paperwork for you?'

'Psssh, like you'd say no to work. _Paper_ , _work_ ,' he enunciated, placing a rather distinct emphasis on the spacing he would have liked to exist in that dreaded duty, 'what's the difference, right?'

'You know what? Come to think of it, bed rest is sounding rather tempting. Might just-'

At that point, Judy's head collapsed face first into the pillow that had been propped against her cheek to ease conversation, and a loud droning sound began to emit from under the little mound of grey fur.

'You sure you can even breathe, Carrots?'

There was no response, at least not immediately. But a couple of seconds later, a rather dramatic Judy turned a baleful eye to the grinning fox, who had not yet deigned to leave the room.

'You have no appreciation of drama.'

'And you haven't got an appreciation of moderation,' Nick returned evenly, as he stood up, leaving half a box of donuts on the table as he tucked his coffee into one paw, and that suspicious lab coat into the other. 'I'll get working on the report; you sleep.'

'I'm sure I don't want to know, but am I going to have to put in the report how you got ahold of a doctor's coat?'

'One more reason for _me_ to write it, and you to catch some Zs.'

'Sly fox,' Judy chuckled, as she rolled under the covers; her eyes closing even before Nick had shut the door. Try as she might, Judy Hopps was still a mammal, and fatigue was finally catching up to as Nick turned to shut the door behind him.

He'd been on the verge of returning the jibe with a customary 'dumb bunny' when he spotted the little catch in his victory. Sure, he'd managed to convince Judy Hopps to concede to a period of bed rest: a remarkable achievement in itself, if it were not for the fact he had resigned himself to another night of unremitting paperwork.

Even in defeat and unconsciousness, Judy Hopps could still have the last word.

'Sly bunny,' he returned softly, even though there was no one left to listen, as he quietly shut the door and trotted off, tossing the lab coat into a convenient empty seat as he went, until naught was left of his passage but the receding 'click' of his footsteps.

* * *

'Please tell me you're Mrs Underfoot.'

'Why of course; who else did you expect?'

It took all of Hornsby's mental restraint to keep himself from breaking into a victory dance, but somehow he managed it. After the most harrowing five hours of his life, his trial was finally at its end.

Of course, in the heat of the moment, he did not give a lick of thought for his safety in the wake of this journey. For some reason, Hornsby had simply presumed that getting the information out alone would be the end of it all; the end to all his troubles, and fears of death lingering around the corner in the form of some Claw. He did not consider, or perhaps did not dare to wonder what would happen if his former employers decided to go beyond simple prevention, and decide vengeance was still a viable option, if only because it would give them a warm feeling in their gut that their 'justice' had been done.

Hornsby did not consider any of these possibilities as he produced the hard drive, and stooped to hand hand it over to the mole seated atop the darkened desk.

Autumn Underfoot was a rather unremarkable mammal, in Hornsby's assessment. A mole in a simple light blue shirt with a pair of wide, round glasses that looked far too large for her diminutive head. In fact, he knew practically nothing about her, other than the fact she was an investigative journalist who'd recently joined ZNN in the hopes of moving on to bigger things. The culmination of fifteen minutes of research from the internet, interspaced by frantic checks over his back to ensure he hadn't garnered any unwanted attention. Other than that, he knew practically nothing about her.

It had been Underfoot who had found him first: convinced him to roll on his colleagues despite the risks, with all manner of appeals to his morality.

That, and a rather sizable briefcase of money that was dwarfed the little mole beside it as she indicated her laptop's adapter with an airy wave of a paw.

'You're welcome to check the money's there,' she squeaked, 'I just need to do the same. I'm sure you understand.'

Hornsby nodded without saying a word. Of course, Autumn's computer was designed for a mole; a tiny little ball of processing power that was barely comparable in size to one of his cloven hooves. And although Hornsby's hard drive was still a small fit in his grasp, It was still larger than the mole's computer.

As he found the appropriate socket in the adapter, Autumn could not suppress a low whistle of appreciation as the data began to flash up on her screen; page upon page of information, and she began to scroll through it, muttering to herself in quiet contemplation of the find. Hornsby, taking up on her offer, decided to test the weight of his reward, but a warning glare from one of the polar bears stopped him cold in his tracks. Invited as he was by their client, Hornsby was unable to reconcile the image of a mole asserting any authority over such a powerful creature, and he dropped the effort, looking to Autumn to give some kind of reassurance before he deigned to try his luck once again.

'How much of this is there?' She whispered in awe, barely listening for an answer.

'Everything,' he replied, 'everything we worked on; everything I promised.'

She only nodded in answer, as her jaw slackened slightly amid her engrossment of the files, and the little mole's tongue began to protrude slightly in concentration, as she began to scribble off several notes into a notepad tucked away in her shirt's pocket, paying no heed to the uncomfortable Hornsby.

'I take it then,' he tried nervously, 'we're...done?'

'In a moment,' she insisted, driving a stake of doubt deeper into the ram's twisting gut. By now, the euphoria of triumph had started to fade, and caution was reasserting itself. After all, his hunters were still out there.

'Look, I don't have a lot of time,' he started, but a warning growl from the polar bear in the room stopped him. Sure, his partner was outside the office basement in which they were now seated, but even by himself, the white bear in a suit was intimidating enough. 'It's just...they're probably still looking for me right now.'

'I told you before,' Autumn went on calmly, 'we can protect you. Come on; no one's getting past those two, right Carrow?'

The only reply that met her was an indignant snort from the aforementioned bear, as he lazily checked the watch on his left paw. Clearly, this was not the first time Autumn had made him and her clients wait as she poured over the fruits of her labor.

However, it was to be her last time, as a light thud resounded off the metal door.

Which was promptly followed by it's bigger and meaner brother, as the unseen weight crashed into the door a second time, throwing it off shrieking hinges, as the second bear stumbled in; his face painted red with long channels of blood, and his back decorated with something...savage.

In the gloom of the doorway, Hornsby was unable to make out the bear's assalient, save for the fact that it was fast. And strong, as Carrow moved to tear the creature off his partner, only to be sent flying over a nearby table by a kick that nearly shattered his jaw.

Despite everything that had played out in his mind a hundred times since that morning; despite every voice of even remote reason screaming at him to run, Hornsby found himself rooted to the spot as he took in the brutal spectacle. There was some part of him he could not explain: some part that wanted; needed, to see the outcome of the gladiatorial bout, even if it would be the death of him.

Perhaps, that insane voice reasoned to him, the mere act of watching the battle would will the bears to victory. That his silent prayers would convince their attacker to make a mistake: that God might intervene and spare him from this peril.

Unfortunately for Hornsby, God must have been preoccupied, as the assassin turned his gaze back to the bleeding brute, who was in the process of dragging his paws back up to defend himself, even as he tried to stagger back, intending to circle his opponent as his partner scrambled up onto his feet.

He never got to the 'circling', as the silhouette simply darted forward, knocking one of the bear's paws to the side with an open paw, before it grabbed ahold of the bear's face. Then, with it's open paw closing up into a ball, the assassin rolled the bear's head back, exposing his soft throat before sending its fist right into the exposed flesh once, then thrice, dropping the bear where he stood.

There was a howl of fury as Carrow thundered toward the assailant; vengeance alight in his eyes, but he fared no better. Locking his arms into a crude 'X', the shade simply caught the bear's arm, before its leg sprang upwards, into Carrow's groin.

The tension in his arm disappearing with the burst of agony invited by the blow, Carrow was still recoiling from the strike when he felt his entrapped arm adopt a mind of its own, as an iron grip locked around his wrist, and pulled with merciless intent.

Naturally, the rest of his body followed, right into his killer's raised knee, and even from across the office as he was, Hornsby could hear the bones fracturing under the impact.

And in the midst of it all, there was a nearly indistinguishable _click_.

Hornsby gave it little thought at the time, for he was too terrified for Carrow's life to pay it much attention. It was only when he saw the murderer spin to face him and the equally paralysed Autumn with Carrow's pistol in hand that he realised his mistake.

The next thing he felt was a battering ram. A very small battering ram that about the size of a fist, but one that was packing the strength of such an instrument, as the bullet struck his right shoulder, dropping him to the ground in a breathless heap.

Undoubtedly against her better judgement, Autumn scampered down beside him to help, but what was she to do? Her tiny build refused to move him so much as an inch, and Hornsby was already drawing breath to tell her to run when a second explosion of cordite shattered the peace of the night, and sent the little mole cannoning back against the oversized desk.

The killer advanced, but a roar stopped him in his tracks. Despite everything that had been visited upon them, both bears had refused to admit defeat, as they staggered back upright, and lumbered back into the fray; Carrow dragging a metal drawer as a makeshift club, even as his partner drew his own weapon to fire.

With a cry of both fury and pain, Carrow brought the drawer down onto the assassin's arm, smashing his pistol from the killer's grasp.

But the drawer he'd ripped from a nearby cabinet was heavy, and Carrow was tiring. Far faster than his killer, who only had to raise a paw to his head, gripping the white fur atop his scalp before he kicked in the bear's knee. Screaming, Carrow's leg gave out from underneath him, permitting the assassin to press down on his head. Hard.

The polar bear's head crashed into the nearby desk with enough force to make Hornsby wince.

His partner fared practically no better against the slippery culprit; a swipe, a claw into an open wound, a scream, and a gunshot was enough to crush Hornsby's last hopes.

He did not see Autumn die, for it was getting difficult to keep his head upright to watch the sickening spectacle. All he heard was a few murmured pleas, before a second gunshot put an end to those slight hopes.

By the time his killer had arrived at him, he had given up on surviving. All he hoped for, as the silhouette loomed over him, inspecting its prey at the height of its triumph, was a quick death.

'Sending you the pictures now.'

That was certainly not what Hornsby had been expecting, as the creature lowered itself until it was only a few feet away from his face; a sadistic grin wrapped around its features as it lifted one paw to its side, and produced what appeared to be a phone.

The flash nearly blinded the pitiful ram, and it was not the only one, as the sick mammal completed its little photoshoot. Only then did Hornsby hear a voice he'd hoped he'd never have to hear again, and it was at that moment he knew his life was forfit. Certainly, he'd given up on hoping to live, but he had never actually know; accepted it as a confirmed fact, that he; Hornsby Evergreen, would die this day.

'Target ID confirmed. Execute.'

'Acknowledge,' Two whispered, as he raised the pistol to Hornsby's head.

The ram's mouth was an odd thing; opening and closing rapidly as he stammered incessantly, trying to formulate some last words; some final mark to leave on the world, even though there was no one to record it. Whatever happened, he resolved, he would not beg. But that was the only thing he knew. He did not know how else to die.

He still trying to figure out the answer; his last words a stuttering mess, when Two pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I warned you, didn't I? Anyways, there aren't any limbs or internal organs flying around yet, so I think it still classifies as 'T'. Hopefully.**

 **Thank you for your support guys: I'm sorry if this chapter is a tad slow for now: the plot will pick up soon; I promise.**

 **Don't forget to leave a review! I really don't mind if its something negative you want to say. Don't get me wrong; I'm not a masochist; I don't rip up good feedback and throw it down a well. I really do appreciate it :). But every piece of feedback really helps me. If there's something wrong, be it plot-wise or technical (spelling will undoubtedly be there. I foresee it now...), please do not hesitate to tell me!**


	3. Back in the Saddle

'Nick? I'm sorry; are you up yet?'

'I am, I am,' Nick managed to slur unconvincingly as he tried to wipe away the sleep from his eyes, 'what's going on?'

'Sorry to interrupt your morning, Nick, but the Chief wants everyone in. Now.'

'What? What's the big rush?'

'There's been a Mammalicide, well, three actually. Is it three?' There was a slight ruckus on the end of the phone, and Nick could just imagine the tabby cat pawing through his scattered papers. Nick was not going to lie: his own desk was a scrappy mess. But he was still able to find whatever he needed within a few moments, much to Judy's annoyance each time she tried to educate him of the merits in clearing up.

Then again, he reflected ruefully, he didn't have to clear away several empty donut boxes whenever he was asked for a document.

'Ah, here we go,' Clawhauser returned, 'yeah, it was three mammals; all killed in some office basement at Horizon Offices?'

'Jeez,' Nick whispered, checking his watch as he hastily pulled his uniform over his shoulders and began fumbling to button it up with a lone hand, 'who is there?'

'Jackson and Francine called it in about ten minutes ago; I think they're still down there. The rest of the guys will meet you there.'

'I'm on my way; what's the address?'

'Sure; its...um, give me a second. Number 41. 41, 57th street; that's Horizon Offices, Precinct 1.'

'Wait,' Nick interjected, 'isn't that just a couple of streets away from the station?'

'You got that right,' the Cheetah returned, clearly unnerved by the mere thought of it as a little trace of doubt crept into his usually cheery voice, 'the Chief's marked this one up on the priority list. Just get down there straight away.'

'What? No bullpen today?'

'He'll give you something to do once you get on scene; he's calling in the whole department on this one. You and Hopps better get a move on.'

'Wait, Hopps is still in hospital, Ben.'

'Oh, oh yeah right!' Clawhauser was too easy a read for the ex-conman; in his mind's eye, Nick could already see the bumbling predator smacking his head for forgetting that little detail. 'Yeah, Chief mentioned that. Sorry to hear about that, Nick.'

'Woah; she's not dead yet, Clawhauser; she'll be fine. Just needs to...take it easy for a bit; that's all.'

The was a little pathetic whining sound on the far side of the phone as Clawhauser bit back on another 'misconstrued remark', and with a wry grin, Nick decided to finally let him off the hook.

'Relax, Ben; I know what you meant. Tell Bogo I'm on my way over.'

'Man, is...is this your first time flying solo?'

'I guess,' Nick answered slowly. The realisation had not quite sunken in the previous evening as he'd hammered out several half-hearted lines entailing the day's events. Not that it had bothered him then: Nick had flown solo for nearly his entire life. At least he liked to think it that way.

So why was it bothering him so much now?

'I'll be alright, Clawhauser,' he said, more for his own comfort than the dispatcher's, 'Horizon Offices, you said?'

'That's right; you're absolutely sure you're gonna be alright without Judy there with you?'

'Ah, you worry far too much Ben,' the fox replied steadily, as his paws snagged the tinted aviators and aligned them atop the bridge of his snout, 'I'll check in once I'm site.'

With that, he returned the radio to its rightful place upon his belt, and with one final take in mirror, he strode on for the exit, only to find himself pausing at the door handle.

 _Come on, Nick_ , he told himself, _it's just another day._

Except it was not. For the first time since making the ruthless cut at the academy, he would be out on the streets of Zootopia without the steadying presence of Officer Judith Laverne Hopps. It was funny that he'd never learnt her full name until yesterday, as he'd filled out a medical form on her behalf, only to find her full name already stamped atop the sheet; complements of one Benjamin Clawhauser. Amid eight months of patrolling Sahara Square, chasing down stubborn culprits up and down the slippery roads of Tundratown, and disentangling themselves from all manner of mishaps amid the vines of the Rainforest District, he had never actually learnt her full name. Not that she'd been keeping it a secret: Nick had just never actually deigned to ask.

And in spite of only knowing her as 'Judy', or more often as 'Carrots', he felt something he'd never thought he'd experience again. Doubt.

It was the same gnawing sensation in his gut that had contorted his insides for nearly half of his life, beneath the sly, easygoing demeanor he'd affix to face every morning like an armor. Of course, over time, it had dwindled with each successful hustle, but it had never died. Each failure; every door slammed in his face for no reason other than his red fur and vulpine features, would herald its return.

But when he'd finally been presented with the gold badge, by none other than the one who had brought a different light to his outlook on life, those doubts had vanished, as a new leaf was turned in his life.

 _Was it really the badge?_ He caught himself in the lie; he really did need to stop lying to himself. _Or was it her?_

Nick smiled at the thought, as he recalled his first few days at the academy, and more specifically the boxing ring in the West Wing. The image of one sergeant Greyhide bouncing lightly from one foot to another, or at least as lightly as a Rhino could bounce from one foot to another, as he eyed the slim little fox on the far end of the arena with a look that could kill. And right behind him, in the gloom of the ring was another image that remained clear as daylight in the fox's green eyes; Judy Hopps, behind a wide, beaming smile as she urged him on. A smile that brokered no doubt; not even against such overwhelming odds for a mammal that had never had to fight a day in his life. After all, Nick had reasoned, foxes were not built to fight. He was built to run. To scamper away and hide away from a world that would like nothing more than to muzzle his kind and drop him in a ditch to be forgotten.

Yet Judy's faith was unshakable. Even after his history; of how they'd first met. Even after he took up flying for a grand total of three seconds when Greyhide sent him right back to his corner in a crumpled heap. She had coached him in her spare time; taught him not only to depend on his strengths, but to trust them in a pinch. In the past, Nick had only turned to his nature out of partial resignation. If this was all he'd been given, he might as well have made the most of it, he had thought to himself as he dragged his beaten form away from the Scouts meeting that had turned his life upside down.

A glass half empty, if Judy had ever heard of it.

Once she was done hammering that logic out of him, it became a choice. He was no longer a fox whose only ambition in life was to run a pawpsicle hustle simply on the basis it was the only economic option available to him that could make use of his natural traits. If he so wanted, he'd do it simply because it was his own choice.

And if he wanted to join Judy as a cop, so too would it be his decision. Traits assigned from birth became gifts, and after a couple more weeks, the sly little fox had stood triumphant over a dazed Greyhide; his paws still singed from his removal of the ring's lightbulb halfway through the bout, but victorious nevertheless Since then, a new leaf had turned in Nick's life. He could do anything.

So why on earth was he unable to open the door?

Because throughout it all, Judy had been at Nick's side. A rock amid stormy and certain waters, that could anchor him to a comforting truth he'd rejected for far too long.

And now that port was gone; laid up in a hospital barely able to move.

'Ah, come on,' Nick groaned, planting his head against the steel entryway in shame, 'she'd kill you if she saw you like this.'

Even that little voice of doubt could not debate that argument. Judy would be horrified if she that he'd allowed himself to lapse back into resignation and self-doubt just because she'd gotten carried away on the last case and wound up with a burned tail. And there'd be hell to pay if she so much as thought for one second that she was some crutch.

Nick would not have that. For both his sake and hers, he'd pull up his act.

'I'm a cop now,' Nick grumbled to himself, furious he'd let himself get this far down the hole, 'I'm a real cop now. I can handle myself.'

With that, he took a final breath, and depressed the door handle.

Only to nearly scream when he saw his own cruiser parked before his doorstep, on the side of the main road, with one very impatient bunny in the driver's seat.

'Officer Wilde, where on earth have you been? I've been waiting nearly three minutes now.'

'Judy?' Nick could scarcely believe his eyes, and he blinked several times, trying to figure out whether or not his doubts had finally overtaken his mind. Except by the time he was done rubbing any semblance of insanity from his disbelieving eyes, Judy was still there, a dull thudding sound emanating from behind the armored door, as her foot continued to idly beat the floor like a drum.

'Well, you coming?'

'Judy, wait,' Nick stumbling struggling to recompose himself, 'I thought you were in the hospital.'

A guilty look creased the rabbit's face, and despite himself, Nick was unable to suppress a wide grin from cracking his features. The fox had spent nearly his entire life reading mammals; judging their intentions and sympathies as he ran his countless schemes, and Judy was one of the most honest people he knew. Cutthroat when it came to dealing with a case, he admitted, as memory of her own hustle came to mind, but never did she technically 'lie'.

In other words, she was practically an open book, and he already had the answer to his query before the words left Judy's mouth.

'Well…' she drew out, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse before abandoning the effort entirely, 'I heard there's big case right in Precinct One.'

'Yeah,' Nick guffawed in disbelief, as he knitted together the rest of the unspoken story, 'so you broke out of the hospital.'

'I was discharged,' Judy retorted vehemently, before she spoiled that effect by meekly adding 'by myself.'

'What happened to bed rest, Carrots?'

'Gah, I need something to do,' she replied, as if that should explain everything. 'Otherwise I might start climbing the walls.'

Nick's only response was to let out a snort as he pulled open the cruiser's door. It did not take him too long to figure out that Judy had simply squeezed her uniform over the bandages that covered the blisters across her legs and probably darted out of the hospital before anyone could ask her why a loose bandage was trailing out of her pant leg. Of course, the last time he'd seen her, he was positive that the burns were sufficient to keep her bed bound for another week or two, but he'd forgotten that where there was a will, there was a way.

And Judy's will was positively irrepressible.

Although that did not explain how she had reacquired a new uniform in the first place, since both Nick and Bogo had not deigned to oblige her request for this very reason.

Even so, Nick could tell it was still troubling her, considering that she was in fact standing up in the driver's seat, avoiding any pressure against the burns. Small as they were, the oversized cruiser's seats had been modified to actually permit them to sit, but it still meant there was enough headspace to stand. A feature Judy was currently exploiting, considering she'd simply rammed her seat back to its rearmost setting to give herself a little more space to work with, but it still betrayed her difficulties.

'Judy,' he started sternly, but the rabbit headed him off.

'Nick, for goodness sake, just get in the car. We both know I'm not heading back to that hospital, and time's a wastin.'

Her foot started tapping the ground again; a very bad sign, Nick knew. But even then he hesitated. A part of him continued to fight; the part that knew it would be better for her if she just wasn't so stubborn and rested up for a few days at least.

A part that was still hung up on his conquest of the morning's insecurities, and now felt the need to prove it. To prove he was not just all bluster, even if that was only to himself.

That voice did not last.

 _Maybe another time_ , Nick told himself, as he allowed himself a smile, breaking the illusion he was about to haul her back off to the ward for recovery. After all, he decided at last, it could never hurt to have a partner.

'Fine,' he said, 'but I'm driving.'

* * *

Clawhauser had not been lying when he'd said the whole department was being sent to this particular case. Then again, the fuzzy cheetah was rather incapable of lying; particuarly when it came to keeping any secret for long, but he was prone to the odd offense of exaggeration. But this particular morning at least, Nick and Judy could pick out at least six squad cars deployed in a rough perimeter around the entry to the office complex Clawhauser had directed them to, and from the mill of activity inside, there were probably more parked in the car park.

Rather, the ones outside were simply to provide a rough barricade to ward off any reporters. Not that the effort was working, given the apparent battle between maybe half a dozen officers, including Wolford and Snarlov, and a tidal wave of journalists, all brandishing a terrifying arsenal of cameras, microphones and pens, as if they were about to charge the pitiful line of naval blue to get the story they sought.

Inspite of their zeal, no one was quite ready to be run over by an armored cruiser, and as Nick guided the cruiser carefully along the road to give the frenzied crowd time to part, they cleared the path, although not without demanding their questions.

'Officers! Do you have anything you have to say on the case?'

'Officer Hopps! What can you tell us?'

'Officer Wilde! A question?'

'We haven't even gotten in yet and they think we know anything?' Nick muttered, gently waving for someone to move out of their way as he ground to a halt. Naturally, the mongoose, who had not seen the massive cruiser rolling up behind her, did not possess the awareness to spot Nick's gesture, but another one of her colleagues was alert enough to guide her out of the way, so they could continue up the driveway.

'Ugh, even if we catch the guy, I'm not trusting myself to say a word to any of these mammals,' Judy replied in a low voice, as she crossed her arms. 'In fact, hit me if I even look like I'm about to.'

'I'll hold you to your word on that,' Nick grinned. Although the colossal disaster of the news conference eight months prior had wounded the fox deeply, he knew Judy still clung onto it's memory with nearly crippling emotional baggage. Certainly, Nick had felt betrayed, but after nearly twenty years of sporadic disasters and betrayals, it had just been one more to add to a pile he'd stopped contemplating nearly nineteen years ago.

In effect, he'd come to the conclusion that Judy hated the memory even more than he could ever hope to loathe a scar of the past, which left him oddly bemused at the entire endeavor of dealing with the memory whenever it resurfaced. Sure, it was supposed to be his 'role' to feel upset, but he never could. Meanwhile, Judy would take up both the role of the apologiser and the accuser, considering Nick never stepped up to the plate, until she was beating herself up all over again, leaving Nick only to make light of the whole situation until it was behind them again.

'Morning, Moony,' he called out the window, flipping his aviators up in acknowledgement of the timberwolf on duty.

'Morning to you too, slick,' Wolford returned with a weary face, betraying the length of time he'd been engaged in the melee, 'Chief's right down that way; building's the middle one of the three.'

'Yeah, I just figured we'd just follow the vehicles.' Nick jibed. 'Lot of us out today, it seems.'

'Wouldn't get you too far that way, foxy; whole courtyard's a mess. MKD and ZCID both have people down here as well.'

'ZCID?' Nick's face up contorted in thought, as he tried to rifle back through the different departments he'd been forced to memorize for the academy's final exam. Department's he'd committed to memory at Judy's behest over several late nights, and then promptly abandoned as soon as he'd handed in his papers. But Wolford simply shrugged his shoulders with the exact same confusion.

'Don't ask me what it stands for; I haven't got a clue. Just some fancy guys with a lot of kit. Anyways, I won't hold you up any longer.'

'Thanks for the directions, Craig,' Nick returned, as the wolf gestured for them to pass the makeshift blockade. Try as he might, Nick could never get used to referring to his colleagues by their first names. The only real exception was Chief Bogo, for the simple reason that Nick still did not know his first name. Judy did not know his first name, nor did anyone they'd idly asked in the entire department. All they knew was that it started with an 'I', having seen his abbreviated name on a couple of walls in the station, but faced with referring to his superior as a squishy part of the anatomy, or the comparatively safer alternative of 'chief', Nick wisely stuck with 'chief'.

Depressing his foot against the gas pedal, the cruiser rolled back into motion, propelling the pair onwards once again.

For the grand total of about three seconds, before Nick realised the truth behind Wolford's warning.

There were simply vehicles everywhere. Armored cruisers of varying sizes, each stamped with the telltale letters 'ZPD'. There were also two ambulances, although their personnel were milling about, seemingly without purpose as two chattered in subdued tones, while another was seated on the bumper of her ambulance; her hooves swinging idly to and fro in anticipation. A fourth had simply rammed his paws into his dull green pockets as he eyed the encroaching cruiser, with only mild disinterest as one of his pals caught his attention with the recent turn in their conversation.

On the far side of the small square that Zootopia's law enforcement agencies had seemingly occupied indefinitely, there were three black clad vans. Unlike ZPD's heavily armored SWAT vehicles though, these were barely outfitted to take a pounding. In fact, Nick had some severe doubts as to whether one could have stood up to an elephant after several kegs of vodka, until he spotted the Murder and Kidnapping Division's insignia on the frontplate. On the front plate, and plastered across every other available surface in massive yellow letters. Then there were more cars and vans scattered seeds across the courtyard, but none of them bore any markings, or at least any markings Nick was aware of.

After finally locating a space amidst the ordered mayhem, the pair slipped out into the shadow of the office complex. Located right in the heart of downtown Zootopia, Horizon Offices was the amalgamation of engineering fanaticism and a lot of money. With nearly a hundred companies spread across three towering monstrosities, it was usually a corporate nightmare.

Today, it was a weekend, thankfully, leaving only law enforcement to get the site cleaned and scrubbed for the upcoming monday, lest workers get put off by the fact there was still blood on the wall, and powerful people started losing money. Powerful people who could start making life hell for the people that protected them.

Which went some ways to explaining the rather disheveled look that gripped the Chief's imposing form, as he exchanged heated words with several mammals who were clearly out of ZPD uniforms. Any who were clad in the naval blue uniforms were in the process of making themselves scarce, even as Nick caught a glimpse of Francine and Jackson scampering off into the relative safety of the crime scene. Not that it was enough to deter Nick; he did not know too much about Francine, other than the fact she was a rather well mannered elephant outside the raucous environment of the bullpen, but he had hung out with Jackson enough times to know that the tiger was only marginally more threatening than Clawhauser. Always preferring to let others take the limelight, he was hardly the type to pick confrontation, particularly when it came to Bogo, who had a knack for intimidating anyone that came in his direction.

But aside from one of their number, none of the little group of mammals currently being addressed by the chief seemed overtly concerned by his sometimes grim manner.

Nick was rather disappointed that he recognised none of them, but reflecting that each represented at least one division of Zootopia's answer to major crimes, he decided it was for the better. There was a donkey in a white shirt with some ill fitted suspenders draped over his shoulders, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to escape the grumpy buffalo. To his side lay a horse in brown overcoat who was the current subject of Bogo's frustration, but as he dropped the cigarette in his hoof before airily exhaling a breath of smoke into the cape buffalo's face, Nick realised the horse was either exceptionally confident in his rank, or simply suicidal, because there was no way bravery on that scale could be any different from masochistic intent.

Slightly further off to the side was a female coyote. She did not remain for very long, for she was begging off an excuse at the very moment the pair arrived within earshot. But given the white coat over her shoulders and the gloves she was already pulling over her paws, Nick could hazard a guess that she was part of the forensics team the MKD would have invariably sent to such a crime scene.

And rounding off the dysfunctional gathering was a red fox. Nick was forced to indulge in a double take as his eyes danced over the briefing, considering he'd been under the impression he was the first, and only, fox in the ZPD.

But his eyes did not deceive him; there was certainly a red fox, or more specifically, a red furred vixen, standing a little off to Bogo's left, although she certainly was not clad in the same manner he was. Like the rest of the circle, exempting the chief, she displayed no affiliation with the police department, having donned only a black jacket, a black shirt, and…

Practically her entire attire was black, or of a similarly shaded disposition, even as she continued to stand at an angle towards him with crossed arms, as she continued to process the meeting, leaving no indication of her thoughts, her feelings, or whether she was in fact paying any attention to begin with.

Nick might have prided himself on reading mammals like books, but this particular vixen presented only a blank veil to pierce. And in trying to read her, Nick could not help but note she was by no means 'half bad', as Finnick might have so crudely put it.

He was still 'reading' her when he felt a sharp pain jam into his ribs, and he instinctively drew breath to ask Judy what on earth might have warranted such a reaction, when he spotted the reason. The six hundred kilogram reason that was staring at him through slanted eyes.

'Wilde,' Bogo rumbled, 'are you receiving me?'

'Always, chief,' Nick managed evenly. A flawless recovery, at least in his opinion, as he gave Judy a smug grin. Judy's only response was to roll her eyes up to the heavens, as she braced herself for the buffalo's inevitable question.

'Care to explain how your partner broke out of a hospital, _again_?'

'She, um, wanted to stretch her legs, sir.'

'That so, Hopps?'

'Sir,' Judy protested, 'I'm fit for duty, and as it stands, it looks like we're short on paws here as we are.'

Bogo grumbled something under his breath, as his gaze switched from fox to rabbit again and again, weighing his choices, before a final glance in the direction of that smug horse sealed their fate.

'Fine,' he snorted, crossing his arms to turn back to the meeting, 'Stable!'

'I'm right here, chief. No need to shout,' the horse grunted, with an insufferable smirk that must have begun testing the limits of Bogo's restraint for a long time before the pair arrived on site.

'Officers Hopps and Wilde will assist Bray. Is that all?'

'For now,' the horse whinnied insufferably, as he drew another cigarette and popped it between his lips, 'Bray; get back up there.'

'Course, inspector,' went the donkey. He might have given the horse a nod, or it might have been a bow, considering how low his head dropped with the motion, and immediately clomped his way over to the pair, extending a hoof in greeting. 'Fritz! Fitzgerald Bray! Pleasure to meet you!'

'If you genti-mammals are done,' the vixen piped up, unfolding her arms as she did so, 'I should be going. Keep me in the loop, Bogo.'

'Ma'am,' Bogo simply responded, straightening up as he did so, but by then, the fox had already rounded on her heel and stepped off, clambering into one of the unmarked cars Nick had noted previously, before it rumbled to life, and towed away, leaving them in her wake.

* * *

'So you're new around here?'

'Oh, yeah,' came the answer practically as soon as the question was complete, 'yeah, I came down in from the meadowlands, about two months ago or so?'

'So you're Stable's partner?'

'I'd hesitate to say partner,' Bray went on, completely ignorant of the fact Judy was still scribbling into her notebook as they walked along the glass lit corridor, 'more like nuisance.'

'I take it he's a bit of a handful, then,' Nick interjected, prompting the donkey to suddenly sieze up with fear.

'No! No, no, no, no! I mean I'm _his_ nuisance. Me! Not him! I mean, can you imagine dragging me along anywhere?'

'Still a sight better than what I saw downstairs,' Judy commented, casting a glance back down towards the bustling courtyard. Of course, by now, the horse they now knew to be MKD Inspector Graham Stable was long gone, having disappeared with Bogo and the Coyote into the central building, where the murder had undoubtedly taken place. At first, Judy had been somewhat reticent about heading anywhere other than the crime scene, until she realised the security room for the entire complex was in a different block. After receiving that little nugget of information, and a stern warning by Bogo that this was not strictly 'her' case to run as she saw fit, they'd set off with Bray only partly leading the way. Because although he undoubtedly knew the directions to the security office, given his previously unsuccessful attempt to acquire the security footage, he seemed inclined to permit Judy and Nick to take point as they tried to navigate the countless levels of Horizon Offices. Each time they happened upon an unmarked junction, they would inquire on the direction; Bray would suddenly recall he was in charge of this little escapade and take lead for the grand total of about three seconds, before his step faltered, and Nick and Judy were left with no choice but to walk slightly ahead of the junior detective, lest they proceed at a crawl.

And Judy was hardly content with anything short of a brisk jog.

'He's not that bad,' Bray answered, scratching his head as he tried to come up with a suitable anecdote, before settling on the most general one he could find, 'he cracked the Greyhound case.'

'I think we mean as a mammal,' Nick interjected, clearly enjoying having an inspector with confidence issues, 'he's not exactly the sociable type.'

There was no argument Bray could find in answer to that, before he suddenly announced in a loud voice, 'Ah, we're here!'

They stopped in a darkened corridor, beside a door bearing a rather utilitarian plaque that simply read 'security'.

'Inspector Bray,' the donkey tried, rapping a hoof lightly against the steel door as he announced his presence, 'we're here to review the security footage from last night.'

He waited with a little goofy smile in anticipation for whomever was inside to open the door, but he was only disappointed as he remained stock still for a couple of seconds, that turned into a minute.

'Maybe they're out,' Nick suggested, jokingly, although Bray was quick to seize upon the thought as fact.

'I thought they might have been taking a leak; maybe he had something bad to eat last night, eh?'

'Or maybe they're deleting something they don't want us to see,' Judy concluded, her eyebrows knotting together into a concerted frown as the door refused to produce a suitable response. 'Bray, what exactly happened last time you came up here?'

'Well, I knocked, and nobody answered.'

'So you left?' Judy asked, nearly incredulous.

'I knocked again; twice, actually, and I waited about ten minutes. Figured they'd be back by now.'

Judy and Nick could only exchange worried glances. With only a nod exchanged, Nick unfolded the little satchel he'd kept on his belt, and produced a tension wrench and pick. Without even stopping to witness the horrified look creasing Bray's face, Nick got to work, fixing the wrench into place before he inserted the pick, even as Judy unclipped the tranquilizer pistol holstered to her thigh.

'Hey, you can't do that!' Bray exclaimed, though he made no motion to physically pry Nick away from the lock, 'we don't have a warrant!'

'Whoever's inside probably doesn't even want us to be looking at last night's tapes,' Judy hissed, gesturing for the panicking detective to lower his voice, 'they might be deleting it right now! At best, that's probable cause.'

She could see Bray's moral compass struggling to reassert itself, but with Nick reaching up to the lock with careful precision, and Judy clambering up to a nearby water dispenser with her pistol now clear of its housing, she could see he was wavering. He distinctly reminded her of a little kit looking for his parents in the middle of a town fair, aimlessly searching for any form of direction; too fearful to trust any he might provide himself.

'This is a really bad idea,' he whispered, more to himself as he fumbled with his holster.

A moment later, and Nick raised the thumb on his right paw, signalling Judy forward.

In an instant, the rabbit's legs had snapped upright, propelling her off the water dispenser and onto the predator sized handle, depressing it even as Nick placed his full weight against the door and pushed it clear, as he brought his own dart to bear.

'ZPD!' He shouted, even as Judy began echoing the same announcement, only to be stopped cold by the wide, pleading eye that met them.

'Well,' Nick mused slowly, as they lowered their darts, 'this is...unexpected.'

* * *

'How's he doing?'

'Shaken up is putting it lightly,' the lion answered, as he and Judy both stow a glimpse at the hippo they'd found beaten to a pulp in the security room as the medics checked him over. His snout encrusted with dried blood and one of his eyes was fused shut by a combination of the thick red caulk and the swelling of several well placed blows, it had taken Nick several minutes to untie him from the knots that had previously restrained him from answering the door while Judy called it in. Pretty soon, three of the previously idle medics had answered the call, alongside a rather confused Francine and Jackson. Of course, when one stopped to consider that the astronomically minute possibility of a perpetrator bothering to sit around all entire night as police surrounded the buildings just to ambush a crew of three medics responding to someone he'd intentionally left alive, one had to seriously question if a police escort was warranted. But the medics were easily spooked, and so Francine and Jackson had come along, if only embolden them sufficiently to get them up the stairs.

In the meantime, Bray had been called back downstairs, undoubtedly to answer for why he'd ended up leaving a wounded hippo stranded without medical attention for half an hour more than necessary if he'd just exercised force the first time, which left Nick and Judy to review the footage from the last evening.

So far though, it was an uninteresting endeavor to say the least, even with Nick scrolling through at nearly sixteen times the speed.

Until they reached 2358 hours.

'Is that...is that who I think it is?'

'No kidding,' Nick breathed, after he'd slammed a paw down on the pause button, and then rewound the tape several moments to account for the rapid speed at which he'd been viewing the tape, 'that's Carrow. And that's Reese.'

'Who?' Judy asked, somewhat confused by the names, 'aren't they, you know...Mr Big's bears?'

'The suit and tie gave it away, huh? Yeah, though I don't think you had the pleasure of meeting those two the last time we were...down in Tundratown.'

He did not care to elaborate on the incident any more than necessary, and neither did Judy. Although Francine and Jackson were amongst the numerous members of the ZPD who had eventually discerned the details of Judy's connections to Tundratown's most feared criminal, they had no clue as to whether the medics were listening in on their conversation. After all, Bogo had made in no uncertain terms they were not to exactly advertise that fact in broad daylight, and neither of the pair had any intention to do so.

'Who is that with them though? Is that a mole?' Judy continued, diverting their attention back to the screen.

'Yeah, and a caribou. That's...yeah, that's the basement camera.'

He began to forward the video; three figures stepped beyond a sheet metal doorway the camera was unfortunately in no position to record, but the fourth; one of the two bears Nick had identified previously, remained in plain sight, standing outside the door with an expression that could only be summarised as boredom in reflection of his poor life choices.

Two more minutes passed, and nothing had changed.

'How long were they in there for?'

'Not a clue,' Nick answered, speeding the video up even more. Still the bear remained entirely unmolested, as he shuffled to and fro, trying to stay awake.

It was then that Judy looked up to the monitors, and promptly slapped a paw against her own forehead in dismay. There; on the live feed of the cameras strewn across the security room's wall, there was no plethora of forensics personnel; no horde of officers mobbing the tightly packed corridor as they ferried evidence back to their vehicles for analysis.

Just the same suited bear, staring out at nothing as he shifted from one foot to the next, again, and again.

'It's on a loop,' Judy summarised. Whoever did it must have come here first, and looped the security footage.'

Checking the footage of the security office itself provided few extra clues, considering there was _no_ footage to begin with. A quick look up confirmed Judy's worst suspicions, as a shattered camera lense stared right back at her, taunting her with the secrets it had taken with it to the grave.

'You know,' Nick mused, 'if I were doing something completely illegal like breaking in and killing people, I'd have probably done that to every security camera I could find.'

'Well that's perfect,' Judy snapped, throwing up her arms in frustration as she paced back and forth, 'we don't have anything then.'

'Ah,' Nick corrected her, 'but if he did 'that' to them, we'll be able to see how he got in to begin with. After all, we can see what we can't see.'

He pulled another screen of static to prove his point, and the frown disappeared from Judy's features as soon as it had appeared. Of course! Following the dead cameras would enable them to practically reconstruct their perpetrator's path over the last night. Sure, it would be far more useful if they were still alive to provide their testimonies, but even in death, they could serve a purpose.

It did not take long for the pair, with Nick manning the cameras while Judy sat hunched over a security map of the complex, comparing each blank camera number to its relevant place on the blueprints, to reconstruct their killer's movements. Not that it was a very easy endeavor; sizable gaps opened up between each camera found, and it soon became clear that the basement camera was not the only one subjected to a loop. But whoever their killer was, they had probably not discovered the security map, prompting them to miss several cameras on their route to the basement, prompting 'improvisation' that practically amounted to a bullet or two.

However, the large gaps disappeared as soon as they reached the room, and suddenly, the trail grew clear as daylight, as Judy traced a nearly solid line of cameras wrecked in the East wing, moving in the opposite direction to the previously removed cameras.

'Why didn't you just go back the way you came?' she asked herself quietly.

'Pardon?'

'Nevermind,' she quickly retreated, remembering her tendency to think aloud too late as Nick looked expectantly at her. 'Just wondering why he didn't just backtrack. I mean, he knew he cleared a way through from the west side. Why go out the other side of the building?'

'Maybe,' answered Nick, pursing his lips as he began scrolling through the cameras once again, 'something didn't go to plan. Maybe he left something in the carpark?'

Judy gave Nick an incredulous look at that theory.

'Sure, he parked a car on the west wing, circled around the building to break in from the east and then ran back through the cameras to go back to his car?'

'Fair enough,' Nick shrugged, 'funny; cameras in the car park are still working…'

He stopped cold as both he and Judy saw the live image light up on the screen. A door leading to a the stairwell was still ajar in the image.

And it's handle was soaked through with dark fluid.

'Nick,' Judy began quietly, 'can you rewind the footage?'

Soundless, Nick complied, turning hours to seconds as the tapes screeched back through the night, pouring their memories out upon pixilated screens.

'Right there!'

The two of them could only watch as they saw a figure slip back into the door and close it, before Nick managed to end the rewind and play the relevant clip.

It was one of the bears from the basement. Only, he was now covered in blood. His suit was ripped and soaked through with his life fluid, and there was a pronounced limp in his gait as he collapsed against a limousine that looked remarkably similar to the one Judy and Nick and found themselves in during their first case. With nearly frenetic haste, he began clawing at the door, before he eventually let out a growl and simply smashed the window in.

A couple of moments later, and the limo roared to life, and disappeared, leaving the camera behind.

'Can we get the license from that?'

'Probably not from that angle,' Nick groaned, flicking through the cameras once again, 'that's probably just to keep an eye on the stairwell. Ah!'

He let out an exclamation of triumph as the frame they were searching for popped up on the main display; the limo simply tearing through the parking gate as it went screaming off into the night.

'UM 969 ZM,' Judy read aloud, reciting the liscence plate like a mantra three times, before she clutched Nick by the collar in celebration. 'That's it, Nick! We got him! You got him!'

'Woah, slow down, Fluff,' Nick replied, although he did not deign to pull her off him just yet, even though it was getting difficult to breath. It was so rare he allowed himself to celebrate his triumphs; so rare he allowed himself to say 'you did something worthwhile today'. Judy made that so much easier, even if she tended to get a little carried away. 'We still gotta find him; you know that, right?'

'Well, yeah,' Judy responded, releasing him and allowing Nick to gratefully replenish his supply of oxygen, 'but hey; we weren't getting anywhere a second ago.'

With that, she unclipped the radio from her belt and punched in the button to transmit. 'Clawhauser; can you put me through to the chief?'

A second later, and a grave voice began emitting from the radio.

'This had better be good, Hopps.'

'Oh it's better than good, Chief. Nick's found us a lead.'

* * *

 **Author's note: You guys did not seriously think for one moment Judy would consider sitting this one out, did you? On the other hand, its our first chapter to feature without Two's psychopathic/mammalicidal tendencies, so maybe that's a plus. No one getting brutally murdered onscreen either; my the times have changed (It won't last; trust me). Although if you can spot the two references in this chapter, you get a cookie. As soon as I figure out how to mail them...**

 **Thanks for your support so far guys! Don't forget to leave a review: whatever you have to say, be it good or bad; it can only help us all! Me, so I don't keep on making the same mistakes, and you guys, so you don't have to slog through the same boring drivel again, and again :)**

 **Really, anyone whose read my stuff in the past knows that any character relationships outside of military chain of command is outside my comfort zone, so please do tell! Although don't expect anything explicit. Anywhere. Yeah, I know; I'll rip a guy's organs out in a heartbeat, but a xxx scene? Thats gonna take a lot of vodka. So please; give me a bearing on how it is so far. Is it 'My Eyes!' level horrific? Or is it half decent? I haven't a clue so please let me know!**

 **I'll try to push out the next chapter soon, although there may be some delays with, you know...those little things called exams :P But with luck, the next chapter will be out next week.**


	4. Dead Ends

**(Edited Author's Note): Thank you Combat Engineer and HawkTooth for the feedback and your suggestions! With luck, this version should now be a little more realistic**

* * *

Much to Judy's relief, they were spared a visit to the DMV and the excruciatingly slow service she'd grown to expect from its personnel, as despite their perpetrator's exhaustive efforts to hide his presence in the office complex itself, his or her thoroughness did not extend to the streets of Zootopia. With a plate and the make of their mark, it did not take very long for Precinct One's IT specialist to home in on the scent. A badger by the name of Gregory, or just Greg, Crawley; Judy had only received the pleasure of meeting him twice in person, but from what little she'd been able to gather about him, he was easily one of the ZPD's most competent assets. Certainly, he was a little on the plump side when one finally found the face to match the voice, and just a little paranoid when it came to agent safety, but when it came to anything with a motherboard, he was a practical force of nature.

Within ten minutes, he'd managed to hunt down the surveillance footage of the last evening, and had even pulled a couple of images from a weather satellite that had drifted too close to the scene of the crime barely eight hours prior.

'I'm still trying to narrow it down,' the badger's voice chattered from the radio set that sat before Judy's lap, 'it looks seventh, eighth or ninth street; I don't know; somewhere around there right now.'

'Looks like?' Judy asked, noting the uncertainty that punctuated his voice, 'that isn't the Greg I know.'

'I may or may not have tried to be a smart ass,' the radio groaned, 'tried to guess a couple of roads ahead of him; try to save time. I guessed wrong. Good news though is I know for a fact now he ain't down near Glacier Lane.'

'So we just have to search every parking lot between here and Glacier Lane?'

'Hey, it's better than having to search every parking lot between wherever you are and the rainforest district,' Greg responded unapologetically, 'besides, I'm still working; just give me a couple of minutes. Just, flake out for a few minutes.'

'Right,' Judy asked skeptically, 'wait.'

'Or, you could start searching every driveway until you find it. Or I find it. You know, whichever comes first.'

'Well,' Nick retorted, giving Judy a sidelong glance that told him the rabbit's answer before the words had even left her mouth, 'I think we know what we're doing.'

'Never could stay still for long, could you, Hopps?'

'Not for a minute, Greg.'

'Not even if I cuffed her to the gurney,' Nick added, only partly joking as memories resurfaced to the forefront of his mind: memories of the last time he'd been ordered to make sure Judy got some for of bedrest, after she'd tried to take on one too many drunken mammals on her lonesome. He'd stepped out for barely a minute to grab lunch, only to catch a rather guilty Judy midway through her attempts to fashion an ersatz lockpick to get back on the case.

Even so, determination could only take anyone so far, and two pairs of eyes were naturally a little slower than a thousand. Those few residents who were willing to talk to the diminutive pair on the previous evening's events were hardly invaluable, since almost nobody had been awake at around one in the morning. Or at least, nobody who was interested in partaking in their own independent surveillance operation on a limousine that happened to roll by at around 1am. Finding no Yax in sight, and waving a friendly goodbye to a less than cordial elephant who'd provided no more information than the last person she'd asked, Judy was already making her way back to the van when Nick had wound down the window.

'Come on, Carrots! Greg's found him; 84th on Moss Street.'

It was all the motivation Judy needed to speed up. With three more strides, and a bound, she slipped through the oversized window with ease, landing back in her seat with a light thud, before she immediately regretted her instinctive decisions.

Of course, her blisters had yet to fully heal, and she was unable to bottle up a little yelp, as she shot upright much as if a jolt of electricity had just been wired into her form.

For a moment, she wondered if she would have to fight another battle with Nick to convince him to let her stay in the field, but it was at that moment Nick chose to surreptitiously check his mirror, giving her time to straighten herself out, and secure herself as best she could without a seatbelt.

'You good to go?' Nick asked, without looking.

'Ready as ever,' Judy responded, as she locked a paw around the handle that hung above her window, 'take us out, Nick.'

She could tell he was only gently depressing the gas, considering neither was thrown back into their seat with terrifying force; something that tended to happen a lot when Judy took the wheel. It was hardly because he was an inexperienced driver: admittedly, he was less experienced than his partner in controlling a vehicle capable of withstanding small calibre weapons fire, but the margin was hardly sufficient to give him any real pause, if the last eight months were anything to go by.

Nor was he giving her one of his little preambles to another jibe at her leadfoot; he'd have a sly grin wrapped around his snout by now if that were the case, giving her a sidelong glance that reeked of patronisation. A habit Judy would often check in turn by reminding him that looking away from the road was an equitable offense.

But there was none of that today, and it was bugging her tremendously. Like an itch she couldn't scratch.

She knew he was trying to avoid killing, or at least throwing her off balance, but Judy never quite thought for her own well being when it came to the job. If she had it her way, they'd have roared off by now, having started to tear 84th Moss Street apart five minutes ago.

So when Nick had decided to take it into account, she did not quite know how to respond. She was not blind enough to scream at him; wrestle the wheel away from him and stamp on the gas when she knew it was an act out of kindness; not procrastination, like their first case. But it still galled her that the investigation should slow down a single notch to accommodate to her injuries.

'Something wrong, Carrots?'

'What?' Too late, Judy realised her foot had been tapping at a drumbeat. She killed the motion and tried to bury her foot under the seat, but it was already too late. 'It's nothing, Nick.'

'Right,' Nick answer slowly, clearly making his skepticism known with the drawn out pronunciation, 'aaand so you tapping your foot like a chisel is now a good thing? Does that mean I'm not going to die if I hear it?'

'Aw, hush, Nick; I'm not that bad!'

'Really, Carrots?'

'Alright,' she conceded, 'I might be a little...somethings…'

'Overzealous?' Nick added, unhelpfully.

'Ouch; make me sound like some religious fanatic. It ain't that bad, is it?' Given the way her voice had unexpectedly assumed a higher octave, Judy was not quite sure if her latest defense was in fact a statement, or a question.

'Religious, no,' went Nick, before stroking his chin with a nearly sage-like quality. 'Fanatic, on the other hand, now that you mention it…'

Judy could only roll her eyes to the heavens as Nick began chuckling to himself at Judy's predicament. She knew by now that it would be a rare day she got the last word in with the mischievous fox, and frankly, he'd been distracted from her initial hiccup to begin with. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was simply better to let it lie, as she tried to distract herself from the snail's pace they were taking; her eyes darting about the window in a vain attempt to absorb anything other than the speedometer's current reading.

To say they were entering a rough neighbourhood was putting it lightly, she thought to herself. Any place where a ZPD cruiser was enough to silence the everyday babble of the sidewalk usually translated to a district where the average citizen had at least some business they would have prefered the law to remain ignorant of. Of course, it was by no means as bad as the Nocturnal District. As long as no one was actively shooting at them, anywhere would be mellow compared to a territory nicknamed the 'Wildlands' for good reason. In fact, before his dismissal in the wake of the Night Howlers scandal, Lionheart had tried on several occasions to 'redefine' the city limits to exclude the area; a story Nick had related to her a couple of months prior in a rather successful attempt to dissuade Judy from joining a SWAT detail posted to the disturbed district. After all, a city sector where gang warfare was a local staple did little to promote the idea of Zootopia as the ideal home.

But thankfully for its residents, people had stopped at simply forgetting it existed all together. Save for the few like Nick that is, who had once called it home.

In comparison, Tundratown was a cakewalk; the odd benefits of having a major crime boss running the underbelly of the district, precisely because of the singularity in that assessment. A crime boss, as opposed to a hundred each ready to kill another to ascend a single rung up a ladder so hazy with overlapping criminal borders and territories that nobody could truly make any sense of it.

It was partly why Nick had fallen in so quickly with Mr Big. At least for the time before his old habits started undermining him again, the distinct order to criminality in Tundratown had a calming effect. At least, he'd told Judy on more than one occasion, if you were going to get iced, you knew where it was coming from.

Which was why it was no surprise that despite the many odd glances cast in their direction as they trundled past, no pitchforks were raised, and no Medvedev cocktails were lit. After all, Mr Big did hate to draw attention to himself, and despite his disagreements with the law, he certainly was not above throwing a cop killer to the wolves in blue.

After maybe another five minutes of drawing wary gazes, they pulled up to a halt, beside a relatively ordinary two-storey house. That is, ordinary outside of the fact there was a limousine in its driveway.

It was Nick who first sensed something was wrong; the second he opened the door, Judy could not help but notice the distinctive twitch of his nose, as he took in several draughs of air, sniffing its contents. It was nearly identical to the manner Wolford and Grizzoli would test a crime scene, and it still puzzled Judy as to why Nick insisted on teasing the pair on said habits if he would resort to the exact same measures in their absence.

'You smell something, Nick?'

'That I do, Judy,' the fox answered slowly, as he exited the vehicle, and began to meander closer to the abandoned limousine, 'and I rather hope it isn't what I think it is.'

About five seconds later, that hope had been thoroughly dashed, and with a cautious wave, Nick beckoned Judy over, who still could not quite sense the same disturbance that had troubled the fox.

That is until she saw the blood.

It had soaked through the seat; stained the window and door where a paw slick with the red fluid must have pushed aside the barrier to exit the guilty vehicle.

Truth be told however, the amount was nearly disappointing. It was a strange thought that made Judy nearly question her sanity, but in retrospect, Judy Hopps had yet to investigate a homicide with the ZPD. She'd run investigations of nearly every kind, and had to deal with the occasional criminal who fought back, but those were injuries sustained in the moment; wounds she could easily assess the severity of and either seek or apply a suitable treatment.

But now, faced with only evidence of a bloodshed she had not been privy to bear witness to, that control went out the window. She had no idea what the mammal had sustained; how long they must have laid bleeding in the seat. And in lieu of hard facts, it was difficult for the mind not to wander. To start to knit an image that was as horrifying as it was realistic, until she was envisaging a corpse gushing red blood from at least a dozen wounds, filling the car to the brim with sickly gore.

It took Judy a full moment to remember there were actually only a couple of splashes to be found, and with effort, she tossed the mental image away, focusing on the facts she had on hand, even as Nick forced the window screen down with a terrible creek of claws biting into glass.

'Whoa,' the fox breathed, immediately waving a paw just a little beyond his snout as if to ward off some foul smell, 'someone was going heavy on the spirits last night.'

Judy gave an experimental sniff in response. Sure enough, the sensory assault was true to form for two mammals blessed, or in this instance cursed, with a rather acute sense of smell.

'That's definitely alcohol,' she summarised, 'really strong alcohol.'

'Uh huh,' went Nick, barely listening as he finished pulling the window down, before leaping inside to produce a glass bottle. 'I'll bet you this stinker's our culprit. Think he was having a good time last night?'

'Maybe,' Judy answered, producing her pen and notepad in a heartbeat, 'or maybe he was trying to clean the wound.'

'And waste good vodka like that?' The fox was wearing a mask of abject horror by now, although after eight months of attuning to Nick's theatrical antics, Judy was unfazed as she began rifling for a fresh page.

'It would explain why the whole place stinks of it,' she thought aloud.

'He could have just missed his mouth.'

'Really likely,' Judy returned, giving Nick a sidelong gaze, who by now had raised the empty bottle a couple of inches above his own mouth, as if he were about to start chugging down the imaginary contents.

'What happened to checking for all possibilities?'

Joking as he may have been, it did not take Nick very long to drop the act, as he replaced the bottle, and began rifling through the backseat, only to let out a low whistle.

'You find something?' Judy asked, instinctively looking up, to her eternal regret.

'This guy was seriously into some kinky stuff,' Nick smirked, before he lifted up an open magazine with some very revealing images without any warning.

'Nick!' Judy screamed, shielding her eyes, but it was too late, and his work complete, the fox tossed the pornographic article into the front seat, where it remained in full view.

'I don't think even bleach is going to do the trick,' Judy groaned, her head unconsciously slamming itself several times against the car door in an effort to purge itself of the image it had just witnessed, 'God, I'm never going to be able to look at tigers and pigs the same way-'

'You think that was strange; check out what a giraffe can-'

'No!' Judy cut him off, covering her eyes, 'No, no, no, and for the last time, no!'

Nick was looking far too pleased with himself as the rabbit squirmed away. His work complete, he was on the verge of unveiling another of the articles, when his paw hit something wet.

'Oh, you gotta be kidding me,' he groaned, when he saw the tinge of red. It sounded strange, certainly, but there had never been a moment in his life where Nicholas Wilde had been so glad to find blood on his paw.

Relatively speaking of course.

'Okay,' Nick whispered to himself, looking for something to wipe the offending liquid off, 'maybe you aren't such a strange guy after all.'

'What was that, Nick?'

'Our, um, friend, might have just been using these to try and staunch the bleeding.'

'I'm sorry, using what?'

'These.'

Another scream, that was followed by a rather forceful smack to the snout.

Nick didn't care, as he dizzily picked himself up; still wearing that sly grin as he found himself face to face with a disgusted bunny. Judy simply made it too easy sometimes.

'Seriously though,' Nick sighed, finally letting his partner off the hook, 'there's just one...two...two of these...I-don't-know-what-you-want-to-call-its with any blood on them; whoever it was isn't hurt that bad.'

'You sure about that, Nick?' Judy was unable to prevent the doubt creeping into her voice, as she eyed the stains in the chair, 'there's...there's quite a lot of it.'

'Ah, bears are tough creatures,' Nick answered easily, 'besides; you haven't seen some of the things they've lived through. Why; you know that guy you met back at Mr Big's place? Raymond?'

'What? The one who tried to kill me?'

'Nah,' Nick answered, in a tone that was disturbingly carefree when one considered he referring to a murder attempt on both their lives, 'nah that was Kevin. But Raymond; I remember there was one time they rolled him in. I didn't even recognise him, Fluff, and he's still breathing. Whoever this was; probably shot once, or twice; I don't know, but trust me; whoever was here is probably still alive.'

Judy was not entirely sure whether she was supposed to be glad at that assessment. Certainly, they were supposed to be bringing in a witness for a triple homicide, but that same witness was also the number one suspect in their case. A suspect who had managed to massacre three other mammals at the same time.

Even if Judy was prepared to bring him to justice regardless of the cost, there was a little niggling voice that hoped, against every moral fibre in her body, that their murderer had already breathed his last.

It was a voice she despised in every degree, but it refused to die, as she eyed the house steadily, noting the slight hue of red that tinged the door handle.

'Want to check the house now?'

'Why not?' Nick shrugged, scrambling out of the limousine with well practiced grace, 'not much else in there. Aside from, you know, some very interesting biology lessons.'

'I dropped biology for a reason,' Juddy snapped. It was stretching the truth to the extreme; that was for certain, but in the haste of the moment, it was the best she could come up with.

Unlit as the house was, Judy did not need a second glance to tell it was occupied. There was a distinctive patter of water in her finely attuned ears; irregular water impacting against a steel surface, as if having just run off a paw or hoof extended over a basin to break the continuous stream of liquid flowing from a tap. There was a light ring of silverware jostling against one another; all betraying an occupant's presence to the rabbit cop, as she strode up to the doorstep, and cleared her throat.

'Hello?' Judy started. 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

Try as she might, she never could get used to the procedure of simply hammering on someone's door immediately announcing her position and intent to enter the premises, regardless of the owner's wishes. She still could not tell why she reverted to that simply question, even when she knew someone was home. Perhaps it gave them a chance to respond amicably; to demonstrate they, like herself, were simple civilised mammals that would accord decency where they received it.

Unfortunately, it so very rarely worked, and she could still hear the clutter in the kitchen continuing unabated, so she tried again, feeding herself a little more rope.

'Hello? ZPD?'

'Maybe try to make it sound a little less like a question?' Nick suggested out of the corner of his mouth. Judy was tempted to draw breath to retaliate, but she could not fault the fox in his assessment, and she tried again with a little more force.

'We're with the ZPD; we just have a couple of questions, sir.'

The clatter continued.

'Sir, I know you're in there,' Judy started, her eyebrows knotting as she crossed her arms, 'we're simply here to ask some questions regarding last night.'

She paused, listening out for any sign that she'd even been acknowledged by their homeowner.

She got that indication a moment later when the gunshot nearly deafened her, and a tremendous hole appeared in the wooden door.

Instinctively, she ducked low, making a conscious effort to drop her telltale ears low until they were pressed against the back of her head, as she rounded about to tackle Nick to the ground.

But she only passed through empty space.

Tumbling into a little heap without a hint of grace, confusion gripped her. Until she looked back to find a sight that felt like a punch to her stomach.

Nick had hit the ground alright, but he was on his back; wide-eyed, and pawing at his chest as he struggled to breathe.

'Nick?' She asked, hoping for a reply that might allay her fears. 'Nick!'

She only received a straggled little whine, as the fox crunched up on the ground, trying to breathe, even as a second round punctuated the air.

Hugging the earth, she scampered beside the fox, secured a paw about his shoulder strap, and began the long journey back to the relative safety of the cruiser. Certainly, it was only a couple of feet away, but Nick was still a good deal heavier than Judy, and dragging him across the snow ladden ground was hard going. All the while, she did not dare to raise her head more than an inch above the ground, as further detonations punctuated the air. Somewhere behind her, a window shattered.

'Officer Hopps to dispatch!' She cried, half in desperation and half in the effort of hauling Nick another foot as she battled last evening's snowfall, 'Clawhauser! Where the hell are you?'

'This is Dispatch,' a familiar voice intoned in her ear, 'what's going on out there, Judy? You sound-'

'Shots fired! I repeat, shots fired! Ten, zero zero! I repeat, we have a have a ten double zero; officer down!'

'Wait, what?'

'Clawhauser!' Judy nearly screamed indignantly, as she finally pulled up alongside their vehicle. Clearly, the cheetah was not very well acclimatized to receiving news of casualties in the field. Then again, nobody in precinct one was very ready to receive weapons fire. Certainly, in SWAT operations it was to be expected, and operators rarely had the time to call in the fact they were under fire when they were in the process of enduring what amounted to another day on the job. But there was a stark difference between expecting to be shot at and an ambush on a witness' doorstep that resulted in a casualty.

'Alright, alright!' The radio panted frantically, 'we're getting you support, Hopps; just hang in there!'

Judy had stopped listening as soon as she was certain Clawhauser had gotten the message. Throwing the door open, she dove into the glove box, emerging with the small but comprehensive medical kit she'd prayed they'd never have to use.

'Judy,' Nick panted breathlessly, as she settled down next to him, 'Judy, I…'

'It's alright,' Judy was already saying, 'It's alright, Nick, just tell me where it is?'

'I can't...I'm not sure-' By now, Nick's sentences were barely coherent, and Judy was forced to lock a firm hand around his searching paw to stop him moving any further.

It took all her strength to stop the violent thrashing in Nick's arm, even as she pinned his other limb gently under her own leg, but it was a necessary evil, she told herself, as she ran a hand over the fox's frame, trying to find the tell-tale circle of blood. After all, there was no point in treating a casualty if they were still trying to bat you away in a mixture of shock of agony.

But try as she might, she could not find an entry wound.

'Carrots?' Nick asked weakly, 'How- how bad is it?'

'I don't know, Nick,' Judy sweated, searching back and forth, 'I can't find an entry wound.'

'Really?'

'Nick, if this is one of your stupid games-'

'It's not, Judy,' Nick groaned, going to search himself over once more, 'I swear, I…'

'Nick, sit back and stay still.'

There was a tone that certainly brokered no argument, and Nick felt the back of his head touch the pavement, before a sudden surge of pain rippled through his chest under Judy's touch.

'Is that it?'

'I guess,' Nick groaned, searching for some form of reassurance in Judy's eyes, and finding none in the frantic rabbit's face, 'I don't know; I've never been shot before!'

He tried to laugh, but he abandoned the effort as soon as Judy began removing his shirt, in the least gentle fashion possible.

'Anyone ever tell you that you have a- horrible bedside manner?'

'Har har,' Nick returned in an even tone, now that she actually knew what she was doing, 'you know my mom said the exact same thing.'

'You? Playing nurse over your mom?' Nick almost regretted laughing at the absurdity of the thought, as another bout of pain surged through his ribcage.

'It's a long story,' Judy managed, her mind only paying the briefest attention to the conversation as she worked. 'It's here, right?'

'Do you have to press it?' wheezed the fox.

'Well, then that's a good sign; your vest stopped it.'

'Really?'

'Take a look for yourself.'

Scarcely daring to believe the words in his ears, Nicholas Wilde tilted his head ever so slightly upright, his mind already painting a ghastly scene to behold, when he found practically nothing of note. No guts hanging out of his chest; no visible heart beating rhythmically out of an open wound like some cheap horror movie: just the black ballistic vest he'd donned under his uniform.

Still not quite believing it after the brutal blow that had punched into his gut, he dug a nail under the vest and slowly raised it, half anticipating a similar sight in the darkness beneath the black fabric.

But there was none of it. Just one of the largest and ugliest bruises he'd ever laid his eyes upon, that was slowly distorting his chest.

'I guess I should have seen that, huh?'

'What?' Nick breathed, realising he had not taken a proper breath of air since seeing his life flash before his eyes, and he quickly endeavored to correct that with a few grateful wheezes.

At that, Judy held out Nick's discarded shirt for him to see, even as she too decided to take the opportunity to replenish her dwindling stores of oxygen. After a slight delay, a rather frighteningly large shape dropped out of naval blue folds of fabric, leaving a sizable and jagged tear in the shirt as it dancing too and fro in the wind, as if it were taunting him of the events that may have come to pass. Instinctively, Nick moved to catch it, but his reflexes were lacking in the face of his brush with death, and it took a moment for him to realise it was simply a rather large piece of splintered wood. It all seemed like a bad dream, he told himself, as he sank back down into the thin layer of snow, and the hard concrete beneath it. Beside him, Judy had slumped against the front tire; the frantic desperation suddenly having been drained out of her like a tap.

'I thought...you know...in the heat of things,' He tried to say it with conviction; anything that might excuse the fact he had just put her through hell, but it was a lost cause. Try as he might, Nick could find no tangible answer himself, and so attempting to provide one was doomed to fail.

Judy on the other hand was still staring off into empty space as she clutched feebly at the radio on her belt. Three times in fact, considering her first two attempts missed the radio entirely, as she grasped only empty space with numb fingers, before she finally steadied herself and secured it in her grasp.

'Clawhauser?'

'I'm here, Judy; what happened?'

'False alarm,' Judy breathed unsteadily, 'false alarm. Cancel the medical response.'

'A-alright, I will,' the cheetah stuttered, probably confused out of his mind by the sudden reversal of events, 'do you...mind telling me what exactly happened down there?'

'Nick just caught some debris from the door,' Judy went on, placing her free paw against the side of her head to try and stop the rocking motion that had subconsciously possessed everything atop her neck, 'he's alright. He's alright; his vest caught it.'

'Oh, well then...that's great, right?'

'Of course it's great,' Nick put in, trying to salvage some shred of his honor, 'at least, I hope it's great, right, Hopps? Not looking to get rid of me too soon, are you?'

'Not yet,' Judy answered, as a ghost of a smile returned to her face upon seeing the fox rise from the paralysis of terror, 'we're good, Dispatch.'

'Um, yeah, so does that mean you got the guy who shot you in the first place?'

There was a guilty start from the pair of them at Clawhauser's words. And in the exact same moment as their gazes locked, there was a similarly guilty decision in both their minds to avoid sharing that little hiccup.

'We're...we're working on it,' Judy managed, before she hastily added 'Hopps out.'

'Real smooth, Fluff.'

'Shut up, Mr Drama Queen.'

* * *

This time, there was no accommodation for civilities. One picked lock later, and the door thundered aside to admit a relatively cautious fox, and a bunny on a mission.

The corridor ahead of them was an ill lit one, or rather an unlit one, but the darkness posed few issues for the eyes of either officer. Undecorated and of practically no distinguishing features, they could each make out a little stairway at the very end of it, but just a couple of feet away, lay an open doorway that led off to the left.

With a wave from Nick signalling her forward, Judy took a deep breathe as she reached the doorframe. Then, swallowing her fear, she leapt for the opposite edge of the frame, her eyes working rapidly to decipher the images they were receiving; tearing them apart for any possible threat even as she hurtled against the wooden post.

Technically, there were no strict guidelines on how she was to enter a room with an armed suspect, predominantly because up until her enrollment into the ZPD, there had never been a need to figure out as to how a tiny mammal, who barely reached the knee of some larger residents, was to clear a room of an armed suspect.

If anything, the usual procedure was to 'run, and wait for the cops'.

So Judy's methodology was a combination of pioneering, and hard trial and error with one Major Friedkin. Simply rounding the corner would sometimes be enough to catch an assailant off guard, considering that when a mammal went to shoot another mammal, they tended to aim for the central mass, or the torso. They certainly did not tend to aim for their opponent's toes, but after several drills with the rabbit, a couple of Judy's partners had gotten rather accustomed to knowing exactly how high they had to aim in order to hit the elusive little bunny with one very potent, and very sharp, tranquilizer dart.

So on off chance one did anticipate a rabbit responding to the crime, simply relying on her small build was another good way to wind up dead.

It was why she'd taken to using doorframes as a literal springboard into rooms: taking off at a run, there were few marksmen indeed who could hit such a little target zipping across the underbelly of a doorframe. Which gave Judy essential time to survey her surroundings and, with luck, time to put a dart in a potential threat before they managed to return the favor with more lethal ammunition.

As it happened, on this occasion, not a single threat presented itself.

At least, nothing that could pose a threat anymore.

'Nick?' Judy called out in a low tone, 'I think we found your shooter.'

Even in the dim light of the living room under the clouded midday sun, the polar bear was impossible to miss. For he was a massive beast; even slouched over the table as he was, Judy had little doubt that even the tree trunk of a leg that lay beneath him weighted even more than she and Nick combined.

He was also impossible to miss for the simple fact there was no way he was still alive.

From the brief glimpse they'd caught in the security feeds, Judy knew that Reese had not been in the best of ways after taking a bullet to the shoulder, but it had not prepared her for the sight that met her.

There was blood practically everywhere. On the floor, in scattered puddles, on several pieces of kitchen roll that had been soaked through with the foul liquid, and even across the entire wall that stood opposite to the lone rabbit standing in the doorway. And at the center of it all, the polar bear lay slumped over in his chair, unbreathing. His suit was saturated with the same sickly colour, and it was ripped and torn in at least a dozen and one places. A little higher up, of of those big, brown eyes was entirely scabbed over with dried blood; a neat little hole drilled into the upper left side of his temple.

It did not take very long to determine that the hole on the other side was the exit wound, considering it was less...neat than the one that decorated the bear's left side, although Judy could not help but notice the blackened circle that surrounded the smaller wound. Like a bruise, except one that had burnt the fur atop it, it took a few moments for Judy to realise it was probably the excess powder of a weapon's discharge.

In fact, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she realised there was not a gun to be found in the polar bear's left hand, and all manner of fears that a murderer could still on the scene struck her simultaneously, until a rather subdued Nick drew her attention to a black, rectangular shape on the ground.

'Recognise it?' She whispered, as if she were afeared that raised voices might wake the dead.

'I'm no good with guns,' Nick excused himself, though Judy could tell by the way his lips were pursuing that he was doing his best to find something of use. 'Might be a Stampede? Sure felt like a Stampede.'

'Isn't that usually marketed to elephants?' Judy asked, dropping down beside the fox as they surveyed the veritable hand cannon. Nick could only shrug in reply, leaving Judy partly disappointed that no answers would be elicited from her ex-criminal of a partner. But only partially; if Nick had been at all familiar with guns in his criminal days, theirs would have probably been a very different story.

Judging from the holes that had distorted the once plain surfaces of the living room, and the door behind it, Judy hazarded it might well have been the work of the weapon, but there was no way to be certain. At least, not before forensics got their paws all over the place.

A summary check of the pistol's chamber and magazine revealed it to be an empty weapon, although that detail did little to answer the hundreds of questions that gripped both their minds, as they surveyed the scene.

'You ever seen anything like this?'

'What, in Bunnyburrow?' Judy gave a nervous laugh that completely failed to put either of them at any ease, 'Never in my whole life. You?'

'Nothing like this,' the fox breathed, as he cast a nervous glance in the dead bear's direction once again, 'I mean, it's not my first time seeing a corpse, if that's what you mean.'

'Did you know them?'

'Some of them,' Nick let slip absentmindedly, 'I grew up in the Nocturnal District: it wasn't exactly all smiles and sunshine, Carrots.'

Judy could only nod her understanding, even as she tried to make something out of the weapon they'd found; anything that kept her gaze off the sorry mammal that occupied the room. The last, and probably only, exposure to death she'd had in her life thus far had been her grandmother. Truth be told, she'd never even really known her all too well, considering the fact she was just one grand kit amongst thousands. Quite literally, as she'd discovered, considering the fact the funeral had gone on for two full days just to give everyone the slightest chance to say their farewells before the next person was pushed in as if they were on a conveyor belt. And she'd been a young kit then; all Judy could remember was that it looked much as if her gran were simply in a deep sleep, not dissimilar to the manner in which she would snooze her old armchair. There was an odd peace to it.

A peace that certainly could not be found in her present situation, what with all the blood and shell casing decorating the abode. So far, she'd counted eight; one for each hole in the wall that separated the living room from the front door. Save for the one that was most probably lost somewhere in the puddle of ichor on the far side of the room which she had no interest in looking for.

'So,' Judy started slowly, 'any bright ideas why exactly a polar bear would want to shoot at the us as soon as we knock on his door, only to then turn it on himself?'

'Maybe he got desperate,' Nick replied, as he sifted through the junk that decorated the floor, 'I've seen it happen a lot of times.'

'What? Mammals blowing their brains out?'

'Okay, nothing quite that drastic, but...mammals doing inexplicable things because they've been backed into a corner? That, I've seen quite a bit.'

'Still though,' Judy mused, chewing her lip, 'it doesn't make sense. I mean, why was he so badly beaten up? And who shot him in the shoulder?'

'You said it yourself earlier; he did leave the scene of the crime. He is, as of right now, the prime suspect.'

'Of killing three mammals, including his partner,' Judy countered.

'If I was doing something very illegal that needed two polar bear guards,' Nick began, his mind already wandering with theatricality, 'I'd either be very important, or I'd be carrying something very important for them to guard in the first place. Something that, say, would be very valuable in the right hands.'

'You saying he stole from them? From his own employer?'

Nick gave a dismissive shrug to answer her confusion, as if it explained everything.

'You haven't hung out with many criminals, have you, Hopps?'

'That's not something to sound so proud of, Nick,' Judy retorted. 'Besides, if he really stole whatever they were buying, where's the it-'

She stopped herself. There, amongst the discarded shell casings that littered the floor, something shimmered back from the floorboards. Something about the same size of a shell casing, which was probably why she'd missed it at first, but on closer inspection, she realised it was not copper staring back at her. Rather, it looked to be of glass.

It was quite literally a glass shell casing no bigger than the length of one of her fingers, she thought to herself, until her paw moved to pluck it from the ground. It was wet, though not particularly sticky, and it was clear as the glass that held it.

'Interesting,' she murmured to herself, holding it up to the light to get a better look, 'you see this Nick?'

There was no reply; just a little 'plink' as Nick must have invariably disturbed some debris on the floor, before he took a couple of shortly spaced sniffs,

'Nick? You're not turning into a bloodhound again, are you?'

'Is it just me, or do you smell gas?'

Judy stopped cold. It faint, certainly, but there was no mistaking it, as the sensation in her nostrils grew with each passing moment.

'That's definately gas,' Nick growled. Instinctively, he started for the offending door when an iron grip on his shoulder stopped him.

'Nick, don't!' She had been planning a more comprehensive explanation, but it was at that point fated decided to provide it's own explanation, as the door violently swung to one side, to reveal an inferno in the kitchen.

An inferno that was still growing, as the flames rode the spiralling gases that filled the room, swirling too and fro as a carpet of fire leapt hungrily across the ceiling into their room, devouring in a gluttonous frenzy.

'Run,' Judy whispered, before her senses snapped her awake, 'grab everything and run!'

She tried to follow her own instructions, but her hand was still clasped tightly on an unmoving Nick, which resulted only in Judy managing to wrench herself badly off-balance upon accidentally trying to tow a weight she had not accounted for. Thankfully, the sudden jerk on his shoulder was enough to rouse Nick to the very nature of their situation, as he turned to run.

'What're you doing?' The sight of Judy laying hunched over the ground as if she were one of her ancestors caught gnawing on a piece of fresh fruit in the middle of a field, 'are you insane? We gotta go!'

'In just a minute; get his gun!'

'The building's falling down, Hopps!' No answer, so he tried to resort to force. The emphasis on tried, considering that if a bunny had ever come in steel, it was probably a relative of Judy's. She simply refused to budge even an inch toward safety, as she scrambled across the floor, pocketing the discarded shell casings in a manner that was as meticulously as it was mad.

'Are you insane?'

'Just get his gun!' Frankly, Nick nearly backed away at the ferocity of the instruction. Abandoning any hope that he'd be able to dissuade her before she'd completed her self-assigned task, Nick skittered over to where the Stampede lay. Needless to say, it felt like heaving up a set of weights in his paws, but fear had a habit of lending strength, and the proximity of the fire was doing a decent job at providing such motivation.

With his task complete, Nick was already resolving to tear Judy from the scene; kicking and screaming if need be, when he caught the flash of grey in his peripheral vision. A second later, and a wide-eyed Judy rocketed into him, seized him by the scruff of his neck, and nearly dragged him off his feet.

With all the grace two mammals facing death could muster, they simply bolted out of the house, peddling themselves as fast as they could across the laminated floor, with the tongues of fire hot on their tails, until a final surge of effort catapulted the pair just beyond the terrace, and landed them in the relative safety of the freezing snow once again, even as the building creaked and whined at the fire in it's belly.

'You're either the bravest cop I know,' panted Nick amid ragged breathes, 'or you're the craziest bunny that ever lived.'

'I'll try and take that as a compliment,' Judy returned, as she collapsed back into the snow drift, finally allowing herself to close her eyes.

* * *

'Care to explain yourself?'

'I handled it, didn't I?'

"Handled' it? 'Handled' doesn't end up on the news!'

'Why don't you talk louder? You're on speaker, after all.'

'What?!'

'Relax,' Two finally chuckled, letting his supervisor off the hook, as he took another draught of beer, 'besides, it's done now. Screaming isn't going to help you too much.'

'Face it, Two; you cocked up.'

'As in I should have checked for your cock-up before I did my job? Yessir, on that, you are correct.'

'Care to repeat that to my face?'

'I would,' the mammal snickered, between uneven sips, 'if you ever dared to show it.'

'I gave you what you asked for. You, on the other hand, did not deliver.'

'Sure, you gave me the usual; you just forgot to add the batteries in the remote.'

'What're you saying, Two?'

The hooded figure did not reply immediately, as he extended a hand for another tempting taste. But as the glass rose to his lips, his eyes never ceased to move; darting left and right, over and over until he was satisfied there was not a single mammal within earshot of what he would have to say. Certainly, the low babble of the pub would have concealed his words all the same, but a healthy dose of caution never hurt anyone.

'You're little care package had a faulty detonator. Two of them, in fact. So I had to improvise.'

'Did that have to involve painting Tundratown red?'

'Well, it probably would have been cleaner if the limo didn't just get to cut and run, scot free, but hey; shitty detonator, so he just got to waltz off with my bomb like no one's business. You can always expect logistics to screw up somewhere, right?'

'That doesn't explain why you shot a cop!'

'Did I? Don't seem to remember doing that.'

'The Director deigned to inform me that your little escapades had the ZPD buzzing for about ten minutes straight; you opened fire on cop, you dolt!'

'Oh yeah,' a hazy memory flittered through Two's mind, for the briefest of moments before it was tossed away into the trash bin he kept for such memories. 'Technically, that wasn't me. That was Reese.'

'Don't play games with me, Two.'

'Why would I ever do that? It's probably what you'll hear on the news by tonight. Speaking of which, I don't seem to remember you asking about how I'm doing; who do you think the walking carpet was aiming at?'

'You wouldn't be so talkative if you were dead,' was the only answer he got.

'Noted, noted,' Two returned without a trace of offense; by now, he was fairly acclimatized to Socrates's unending prayers for his untimely demise. 'Anyways, if you want to cut the shit, you should just relax, stripes. Reese isn't very talkative anymore.'

'The money?'

'Left it with our dearly departed friend; there'll still be some bills left once the fire's cooled. Between that, and the fact it was his gun with his rounds, we should be all dandy.'

'And there isn't anything they could trace back to you?'

'Give me some credit,' Two scoffed, tilting his head back once more before setting down the empty glass, 'Fire's a greedy thing, you know, stripes? Doesn't like to leave much standing, if you know what I mean, and so damn quick to catch! You'd be surprised what you can do with a magazine and a toaster-'

'Sounds thrilling,' the voice on the other end baulked in a tone that indicated he'd used his allotted time, 'just get the drive to the drop.'

'It'll be there,' Two relied, dropping a paw down to his jacket pocket to make sure the tiny piece of hardware was still on his person, 'it will, Soc. You can breathe, you know.'

'One last thing: Star wants an inventory. Do you need another dose?'

'It would be appreciated,' the lonely patron sighed, raising a lone paw to instinctively rub the folds of fur that lined his neck at that particular reminder, 'had to use a little more than normal last night.'

'What? Two bears too much for Two?'

'After you try standing with your pants around your ankles, pressing a faulty detonator while a polar bear is charging at you; then, and only then; I'll let you be the judge of that.'

'Fine. It'll be waiting at the usual spot. Goodbye, Two.'

* * *

Needless to say, Bogo was less than thrilled that Judy and Nick's 'lead' had ended with a dead suspect and a massive inferno that was only kept in check by the naturally colder environment of Tundratown's artificial snowfall.

'I'm not quite sure which one is worse,' he rattled off, 'no leads, or getting a call that you two managed to commit arson.'

'Isn't that a negligence charge, sir? I mean, arson is setting fire with intent-'

'Are you planning to throw the dictionary at me, Wilde?'

For a moment, Nick opened his mouth to reply, but a warning glance from Judy made him think better of it. Besides, Bogo was looking a little more volatile than normal, as he crashed back against his own squad car with crossed arms, and Judy was not quite sure if the vehicle elicited a little squeal of agony as it fought to sustain the weight of the cape buffalo.

'Look, City Hall's been hounding me like a pack of savages since this whole mess started, so just tell me he's our guy.'

'We got his gun,' Judy interjected, before Nick could dig them both a deeper grave, 'Grazer could probably compare it with anything at the scene.'

'Is that it?'

'We were a little...preoccupied,' Nick butted back in, to Judy's eternal dismay, 'considering how the whole place went up like a tinderbox.'

'I don't, we don't know how exactly the fire started-'

'Speak for yourself, ace.'

'Oh?' Bogo asked, with a raised eyebrow. 'And I presume you would know, Wilde?'

'Er,' Nick sighed, defeated, 'we'll get to the bottom of it, sir, but I'm saying; it's entirely possible he just wanted to try and destroy the evidence.'

'You're trying to tell me a polar bear committed triple mammalicide, then went to attempt to murder you two, and then blew his own brains out? After deciding to set fire to his own house?'

'It's just a theory,' Nick retreated, realising how foolish it all sounded once Bogo had put it into its crudest form, 'but I mean, mammals aren't always rational, am I right?'

'Hmm,' Bogo grunted, though it sounded more like a growl as he eyed the ex-con man, 'particularly criminals.'

'I'm sure you've had plenty experience in that field, Chief,' Nick went on easily, skipping over the barb with practiced fluidity,

'More than you know, Wilde. But I don't like coincidence. You're certain there wasn't anyone else in the house with you?'

'I didn't hear anyone,' said Judy, before nervously adding, 'at least I don't think I did.'

'You don't think?'

'Chief, come on,' Nick put in, 'Judy's got probably the best ears in the force. I mean, if she didn't hear anything, I doubt anyone would have. And I was pretty sure we were alone in that house as well. Aside from the bad guy, that is.'

'Alright,' Bogo finally relented, and with that, his shoulders dropped a noticeable distance, as a surge of pent up fury finally departed his system. At least, Judy had assumed it was just the typical rage that tended to broil up in cape buffalos, but as the Buffalo's eyes threatened to close up entirely, she realised it was more akin to anxiety. She'd never actually seen the chief of the ZPD come so close to admitting any trace of weariness; there was usually a determined, if not relentless duty that fueled his every action, in spite of his...coldness at times when the chain of command called for such.

Of course, that moment of admission lasted for only a split second, before Bogo's eyes snapped upright once more.

'But I don't like coincidences. I know this scumbag might well have shot himself, but I don't want you two making any assumptions, you hear? Not until you know for a fact.'

'We got it, Chief,' Judy snapped upright instinctively, 'we'll get it done.'

'Splendid. Anything else of note?'

'Just a couple of shell casings,' Judy added, holding them out for inspection atop an empty paw, 'and...er, this.'

'Is that a shot glass?' asked Nick, raising an eyebrow at the sight, and the very memory of Judy nearly burning herself alive to recover such a trivial item.

'Shot glass for a mouse, if I ever saw one,' Bogo grunted, as he held up up close for inspection before he withdrew a hoof in a mixture of query and disgust, sniffing at the liquid that once filled the vessel. 'Although, that sure isn't alcohol. What's your take, Hopps?'

Judy could only give a little shrug. 'I...I couldn't say, sir. Not yet, at least.'

'Get it to Grazer,' rumbled the buffalo, 'and send me a report as soon as you have something. Mark my words, Hopps. There's more to this one, and we're going to get to the bottom of it.'

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow, this one was a long chapter. Sorry if it still feels like there's still a lot of unanswered questions; believe me, we'll get there eventually. Truth be told, I was contemplating feeding even less information in this chapter, but considering I'm probably not going to be able to post up the next instalment until the end of May, I thought I'd throw in a few more tibits than normal. Sorry for the long wait, but I'm afraid I can't postpone my exams: turns out story writing is an insubstantial excuse to seek medical exemption.**

 **Also, I apologies to any gun nuts who I may have offended with inaccurate portrayals of ballistics. I've been lead to believe that suicide isn't a clear cut case of 'a gun in someone's hand translates to suicide', but hey; like I'll probably say below; the review section's always available! On that matter, thanks again to Combat Engineer for pointing out my idiocy in an earlier draft: new readers, if you're confused by the review, in the first upload, I did write that Nick was in fact shot and survived thanks to his vest, when in reality he should have just been turned into a paste. If there are anymore instances like this, please do not hesitate to let me know!**

 **And on that matter, I'd like to address the issue of naming before I get lynched. Some people are probably already cursing that I spelt 'Molotov cocktail' as '** **Medvedev cocktails'** **, so before you guys start stringing me up, keep in mind that I was operating on the idea that 'in Zootopia, humans never happened'. So half our names for things named after people would have probably been thrown out the window with a brand new history. Probably a very similar history to ours, but a different one nevertheless. Same goes for weapon naming, and organisational acronyms, although I'm sticking with what the movie's already established as canon. Seriously, you guys do not know how tempting it was to change ZPD's boring old SWAT designation to something else ;)**

 **So until then, happy reading! And if you so happen to have a moment, please don't hesitate to drop a review! I've probably bored you guys out of your minds already about the ways it can help both me and you, so I'll keep it short this time. It helps, and I always appreciate feedback.**


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